


This is it

by Huggy6ear_Angel



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Alternate Mythology, Alternate Universe, Angst, Backstory, Blasphemy, Carlisle centered, Depression, Gen, I am slowly losing my mind writing this, Imprisonment, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Religious Themes, Soulmates, Suicidal Thoughts, Supernatural Elements, Vampires, Work In Progress, aro's backstory, canon is my bitch and i do what i want with it, carlisle's backstory, different lore, hope you're following, no research on witchcraft was done because i am scared, possibly, shit is about to get complicated, witch!aro
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:27:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 42,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25362379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huggy6ear_Angel/pseuds/Huggy6ear_Angel
Summary: People know of vampires.  Aro goes on a suicide mission but not quite.  Carlisle gets imprisoned and then released.Nothing is the same.
Relationships: Aro/Carlisle Cullen
Comments: 51
Kudos: 21





	1. Cause for a storm

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo! I had uploaded this chapter once before, but took it down, because I decided to actually put effort into it. Also, I have a clearer view of where this is going, so if you read it before, know that it is changed. and hopefully better.  
> Thank you for taking the time to read.

Aro had done a great job of concealing his mood all day long. He had received word, a phone call from the guards. They had found out where Caius and Marcus were held. An obscure location in Hungary. He had given the guards' a clear order. They were to do nothing. He would resolve the situation himself. All arrangements already made.

He was in the tiny kitchen in his and Carlisle's small apartment, picking out a bottle of wine.  
They were drinking too much lately.

What was he supposed to do? He had to go to Hungary, free his brothers. And he would destroy Carlisle in the process. Just when they had learned to live with each other, just when they had managed to make it work.

He sighed, defeated, resigned. He started whispering spells, calling for help to dead gods. He promised to pay his debt by the following night, and pleaded the gods to keep his soulmate from following after him.

He had been a loyal witch to them. He hoped the gods would grant him this wish, before he had to meet them.

He passed a glass to Carlisle, adoration in his eyes, all his sorrow hidden well.  
“Did Esme contact you?”Aro asked, genuinely curious of her whereabouts. He hoped she was somewhere close, so when it came down to it, she could reach Carlisle before he did anything reckless.  
The blond took a sip of the red wine, “No. I hope she calls soon. I'm getting worried.” He pulled Aro to the couch with him stealing a kiss and Aro let him. He felt detached, disconnected. How could he kiss him with a promise of love when he had planned to break him that very night? How could he enjoy his soulmate's embrace when he knew it would be the very last one? What a traitor he was. What an impostor of a lover.

“I'm going to Europe,” he said and he felt Carlisle freeze against him. The blond sat up, his heart accelerating.  
“Aro don't go. They'll kill you.” He grabbed at Aro's shirt with shaking hands.  
Aro took Carlisle's hands in his own, pressed a soft kiss on his knuckles, “I know.”  
Carlisle couldn't speak, couldn't move. His throat had closed up, all the words he wanted to say trapped behind his tongue.

Aro untangled himself from the blond's grip, escaping the fruitless attempts at being pulled back and walked to the door. Carlisle didn't follow him, he didn't speak, he didn't move. Why couldn't he speak?  
No that wasn't right, he wanted to beg Aro not to go, not to leave him, he wanted to grab him and keep him there, he wanted to go with him, for he did not want to have to live without him. Not again, never again.  
He felt tears roll down his face, but Aro didn't look at him. He only whispered he was sorry and closed the door behind him softly.

The click of the door, was not quiet, it was shattering and painful and Carlisle realised it was not the sound of the door at all, but in fact the sound of his own heart breaking into a million little pieces that would never be put together again.  
In his head he was running after Aro, calling him, stopping him, going with him. But his body would not obey. Something was holding him firmly in place.  
A spell, he realised and looked around at the empty, cold room.

They had been staying together in Maine in a small apartment on the 7th floor of a block. Carlisle looked at the paintings hanging on the wall. They were a couple of cheaply printed images on canvas. Carlisle hadn't liked them very much, but Aro had found them hilarious and had partly painted over them. Carlisle looked at them and they seemed to mock him now, in their curved font that said “Live Adventure.” His gaze fell on the couch they had picked together, and then at the wine they had been drinking. The glassware was the only expensive thing in the house. Handmade crystal with a golden rim. They had been trying to keep a low profile, appear unassuming.  
The apartment felt so cold.

Carlisle took a deep breath, trying to see better through the watery haze and picked up his glass. A spell through the drink, he understood. He would make sure to drink the entire bottle, then.

* * * *

Carlisle was lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling, the empty bottle hanging from is hand. His phone was ringing for the hundredth time but he paid it no mind. He felt empty. Mind, heart and soul. All empty.

He rose slowly, put the bottle on the table, glanced around disoriented, lost. How many hours had passed? Had Aro reached Europe, yet? Had he been executed yet?  
He almost choked on the thought.  
“Aro is dead,” he said out loud, the words sounding fake, incoherent. He turned the tv on.

“Out of control vampire stopped by police forces”  
“Vampire full cooperation is a lie”  
“Today proved why vampires cannot be trusted”  
“Vampire broke into government facility”  
He skimmed the new titles as he zapped through various channels.  
“We are interrupting our broadcast to inform the public that a video recording from within the facility has been uploaded online. Government officials have not yet taken a stance on the matter, and we feel responsible to show the recording. Young audiences are discouraged from viewing.”

Carlisle listened to the reporter with mild interest and stood in front of the screen, unmoving as he watched a corridor with white walls, white floors and white ceilings. 2 figures appeared running, behind them a figure in a black cloak, Aro, he recognised immediately. After them, 5 security guards, armed with weapons to the teeth. In a matter of two seconds, the white corridor was spoiled by dark red stains and Aro stopped running.

Carlisle changed the channel, casually to watch the video again, this time paying attention to the first two figures. Caius and Marcus. He watched his soulmate get shot down again. And then again. And then again. And one more time.

* * * *

Vampires had been trying to find middle ground with the world leaders for months after Lucas' suicide and most European countries had already equipped every active police force with the proper, vampire killing weapons and the order to fire at will. Vampires were given a two days’ notice to leave. Almost all of them had fled from Europe and found temporary shelter in Siberia and Arabia. The USA hadn't yet ordered the elimination of any and all vampires but if that changed today, during the meeting of the world’s leaders, they wouldn't get any notice and there would be casualties.

Supposedly, all vampire matters were being discussed in absolute transparency. Nobody believed that, but it was different witnessing it. There was not a single chance that Caius and Marcus would be, willingly, conversing with any officials. Aro had gone to break them out, help them, free them, he understood. Carlisle slipped out of the door.

* * * *

The meeting was held at a known location in Boston, in a maximum-security office, with security guards spread all over the floor, the building, the street. Carlisle slipped through all security he met, not entirely unnoticed, but by the time the guards were informed Carlisle had reached the office.

He knocked out the two guards at the door and once inside, he pressed the button that forced the room in lockdown. Bullets hit the windows and the door, none of them broke the shield. Carlisle smiled and looked around the spacious room.

The suited men were looking at him distressed, but they hadn't yet reacted. He supposed that was to be expected, everyone in this room was used to dealing with psychopaths, or better, were psychos themselves.  
"Gentlemen do not be alarmed. I merely have a few questions." The blond paced casually back and forth. The men glanced at each other, threw glances towards the door. Carlisle knew he didn't have infinite time. The lockdown definitely had an overdrive.  
"First question, did you, or did you not sign an official paper where it was specifically stated that there would be no arrests for no crimes committed?" Carlisle stopped moving and pierced one of the men with his eyes, black and condemning.  
He was sure this was an infamous person in front of him, but he did not recognise anyone in this room. His mind did not provide any information.

Realisation started dawning on the mens' faces. This was about the vampire shooting. They were expecting some kind of reaction for sure, just not yet.  
The blond took a step to begin his pacing again and smirked as he felt the pressure of the room release. "I'll give you a moment to recall your memory. Question number two, did you or did you not all agree, verbally but still with binding formality, that all actions regarding vampires would be taken with absolute transparency?" He looked at every individual in the room, every scared heartbeat was hypnotizing his shaken mind.

He walked closer to the head of the meeting, "Have we not kept our part of the deal?" he asked.  
The man didn't answer, but his heart accelerated causing Carlisle to stare at his chest for longer than intended. Carlisle wanted to bare his teeth, but settled for dropping his fist on the desk. "Have we not kept our part of the deal?" He asked louder and did not miss the yelp one of the men left. He smiled, that's right, they should be scared of him.

Carlisle leaned closer on the man at the head of the table, "What happened today?" he asked just a few inches away from his face. Every man in the room held his breath, as if that could hide them.  
The head of the meeting had the training of a special forces agent and refused to allow fear show anywhere in his stance. "Standard procedures were followed," he said.  
The indifferent tone in his voice struck violently Carlisle's tense nerves. He nodded, looked the man in the eyes and threw his arm forward in a cat like manner, fast enough to pierce through his chest.  
Gasps echoed in the room, only to be cut short when the vampire pulled his hand back to reveal he was holding the man’s heart. He put the stopped heart on the desk in front of his former owner and sighed.  
A few men decided what the appropriate reaction was and leaned sideways to empty the contents of their stomachs.

Carlisle stretched his neck from side to side, and pushed back the tuft of hair that had fallen on his face, effectively spreading blood all over his blond hair. "Let me ask one more time, what happened today?"

* * * *

He was done, he did not want any more lives. He was satisfied, the rage in his chest had been sated. He wanted to go. He walked to the door and released the lockdown letting the security in to witness his actions. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly as he was yelled at to drop to his knees.

Gasps, curses were shouted as the security took in the scene. A heart on the desk, blooded suits, a man with his throat ripped from his neck, a man with blood flowing from his eyes to his mouth that was completely empty of teeth, another with the word 'LIAR' carved across his forehead, more blood. Men unconscious, but still alive.

Carlisle was smiling, the barrels of two guns felt cold on the back of his head. He was ready, he was so fucking ready-

“DON’T KILL HIM!” a voice shouted and the whole room seemed to freeze by the command. Carlisle opened his eyes annoyed to witness his saviour. A man Carlisle had never seen before walked in front of him. It would be so easy for the vampire to kill him too.  
A needle was pushed into his neck, and Carlisle lost consciousness before fully realising what was happening.


	2. First month

Carlisle could barely keep his eyes open as they crumbled under their own weight. He was sitting in some sort of interrogation room, his hands were cuffed to the table in front of him and the light aimed directly on his face was too bright.

He had been injected with a sedative ten times after the first one in the scene of the crime. He barely had the chance to take in his surroundings and now he was crawling his way back to consciousness.

A door shutting forcefully startled him awake and he fought to hold on to the real world. The damned light was not helping.   
He thought he could hear footsteps. His eyes fell shut again and after an undetermined period of time someone grabbed his hair from behind, forcing his head back, exposing the entirety of his neck. Fear ran along his nerves and he instinctively tried to grab the attacking hands. 

The chain stopped him with a rattle and he finally managed to open his eyes to see the figure of a man leaning over him. Slowly, as if coming through fog, the man's features came into focus.

His hair was let go, and Carlisle let his weight carry him forward to lean on his tied hands, shielding his face from the light.  
“How are you settling in?” the man asked him and moved around the table to sit across from the vampire.  
Carlisle tried to look at him but hid his face again, having being blinded.  
The man chuckled and flicked a switch, turning the light off, dooming Carlisle's view to palpable void.

The man watched in a perfectly lit room, still very relaxed, as the vampire seemed to be in pain, clutching his head, pressing his palms to his eyes.

'What do you want?” Carlisle spoke before the words escaped him.  
The man chuckled again and it was beginning to get on Carlisle's nerves.

His eyes finally adapted to the low intensity light and he slowly lifted his head, suspicious of what might await him.

“Let's start easy, what is your name?” the man asked and Carlisle blinked. He didn't look intimidating at all.  
“What do you want?” Carlisle repeated.

The man leaned forward and slapped the vampire's face hard. Really hard. Carlisle felt his jaw go numb and his one eye went blind again for a few seconds. His eyebrows flew up and he took a few shallow breaths, _what the hell was that?_   
He turned his head slowly forward again, as the man spoke, “Let's try again. What is your name?” he asked with a smile that was anything but friendly.

Carlisle thought of his options.   
His legs weren't cuffed, but it seemed that he could not break the chain around his hands. He felt exhausted. The man was losing patience with every passing second. Carlisle decided the safest option would be to comply.  
“Carlisle.”

The man smiled, genuinely this time and relaxed back to his seat. “There we go. It wasn't so hard, was it?”

Carlisle did not react.

“You will call me 'Mr A' or 'agent' and nothing else. Is that clear?”

Carlisle nodded and shifted to sit a bit more comfortably.

“Now, vampire, I want you to understand why you are here, and why you are lucky to be here,” mr A started and Carlisle put on a mask of mild indifference. Awareness was almost fully back to him, he would try to pull his hands free the moment he felt strong enough.  
“Let me lay down the facts for you. You killed four people. Four very important people. And in a spectacularly gruesome way.”  
Carlisle looked at his hands and realised they had been cleaned. There was no trace of blood. He wondered if there was any evidence on him.  
“And to top it all off, the office had a security camera, and the recording has been leaked online.”

Carlisle felt the tips of his lips raise and he couldn't tell why. He wasn't proud of what he had done, but...  
“You find this amusing?” mr A asked.  
“Yes,” Carlise agreed.  
“If it weren't for me, you would be dead right now,” mr A said. A statement obviously meant to intimidate.  
“Kill me, then,” he said before he gave it much thought. He had no intention to make it out of that scene alive.   
Mr A froze, just for a second, to reassess the situation. He hadn't expected this, “Oh no no. Why would I do such a thing? We had two vampires in our possession, we lost them both. And then you showed up, out of nowhere. You will be of great importance, whether you wanted to or not,” Mr A said and gestured to someone behind Carlisle. 

Two people came in the room within seconds, they looked like soldiers and nurses at the same time. A needle was pushed into Carlisle's neck before he could fight it. The drug taking effect almost immediately.  
How many times would he have to be injected for the drug to stop working, he wondered and felt his body give up and slump over, almost falling off the chair.

** * * * * 

_He was falling, falling, downward descend, falling freely, chaos.  
He was falling, and it was dark, oh so dark, no senses could help him, but he was falling down, further down.   
Wake up, wake up, don't forget, you must wake up. It's too low, too dangerous, wake up._

He opened his eyes confused and boneless, frantically roaming his hands over his body. Nothing was missing. He was all there.  
He let out a deep breath. He was awake. It was dark, but he was awake.  
Why was he so scared?

He was in a room with no light. He stood up, feeling cold cement under his feet, and looked down at himself. New clothes.

He placed one hand on the wall, and made his way around the room, feeling it, trying to understand it. He made another round, his feet going numb. He tapped his knuckles against the wall, estimating how thick it was. 

A door.   
He stopped, placed both hands against it. He tapped on it. No weak spots. Probably a heavy, sliding door. He took half a step back and threw two consecutive punches.

A dent?

He raised his eyebrows, and tried again with more force.   
Bang bang.   
A grunt escaped him.   
Another dent.  
He stepped back, letting his arms drop. How could he not break down a single door?   
He tried again, this time time running to it, kicking it, using his whole body against it. Nothing.  
It didn't budge. Barely a new dent.

He stopped to catch his breath, looking around. Nothing. Empty. He pressed his knuckles to his mouth, thinking. There were scratches on his fists that would heal within the minute.  
He focused on his hearing, catching the unmistakable buzz of an electric device. He tilted his head, trying to locate it. There, on the far left corner. He turned to face it.  
“Where am I?” His voice deafening in the silence. No one answered. He turned away from it, paced around, thinking.

Time passed slowly, Carlisle felt every pull of it drag against his skin. He hadn't sat down but he had his back against the wall, facing the door. He had never felt more like a caged animal. His eyes were focused on the door, his ears picking up every sound they could, the changes of the electric buzz, his own slow, but steady heartbeat, the settling of the ground under his feet.

The door was being unlocked, the sound it made forcing Carlisle to unfocus his hearing or risk go deaf. He raised his arms in front of him, preparing, ready.

“If you stay calm I will open the door and let you out. If you try to attack me, I will lock it back and leave you here for a few more days. Am I clear?” It was mr A, talking to him from behind many layers of metal and concrete.

“Yes,” Carlisle's stance was too stiff, too tense, ready for a fight.

A different sound, another lock turning and the door moved slowly, letting in thin rays of light. Carlisle ran the second he was sure he could squeeze through the opening. A pistol was fired, the projectile hitting him on the neck. A small arrow, a cocktail of sedatives.  
The light had not managed to yet reach Carlisle before he lost consciousness and fell on his stomach, in front of mr A's shoes.

The agent clicked his tongue, the vampire had reacted in an expected manner. He ordered the two guards to undress Carlisle's upper half, and put in place a metal band around his body, right where his ribs ended. It clicked, locking itself and the two men dragged the unconscious vampire back inside the box. The doors once again were locked and Carlisle was left in the dark, invincible room.

* * *

_He was falling and falling down into the dark abyss of endless space. Someone was screaming. Was it him? He looked around.  
Someone was screaming, and it wasn't him.   
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”  
It sounded like...   
He was falling and this time when he looked at himself he was covered in blood._

He came back sooner this time, jumped up and checked his body frantically. Something was around his middle. He tried to pry it open and the moment he applied force, he was pulled to the ground, the band glueing him on the floor. He pushed his torso up, trying to sit up, but the more he pushed the stronger the pull became, keeping him stuck. He squeezed his fingers underneath it, meaning to break it, but it reacted by tightening itself more, cutting off his breath. He stopped fighting it, taking a moment to recompose.   
He repositioned his legs, angling them so he could use their strength, placed his palms under his shoulders, took a deep breath and _pushed_ , grunting and gasping all the way.  
He lifted from the floor one inch, but before he could count a victory the pull grew even stronger. He was stuck, he realised as he panted, sweat gathering at the small of his back.

 _Day two._  
He tried to push with only his arms, maybe trick the pull.

 _Day three._  
He tried to turn around on his back.

 _Day four._  
He tried to put his hands between the floor and the band.

 _Day five._  
He tried to squirm out of the band.

 _Day six._  
The position was getting uncomfortable.

 _Day seven._  
He tried to shift, reposition himself. Failed.

 _Day eight._  
He tried to hit it, break it. It tightened more, forcing him to stop breathing altogether.

 _Day nine._  
He stayed still.

 _Day ten._  
He stayed still.

 _Day eleven._  
He stayed still.

 _Day twelve._  
The band expanded to its original size, the pull was released.   
Carlisle slowly placed his hands beneath his shoulders, distrustful and pushed, lifting off the floor easily. He stood up, letting his body readapt to true gravity, urging his blood to circulate again. He felt dizzy but forced his limbs to cooperate as he flexed and unflexed his muscles, as he twisted his joints and stretched. He started pacing.

 _Day thirteen._  
He paced.

 _Day fourteen._  
He paced.

 _Day fifteen._  
He paced.

 _Day sixteen._  
He stopped pacing.

 _Day seventeen._  
He sat on the floor facing the door and waited.

 _Day eighteen._  
He waited.

 _Day nineteen._  
He waited.

 _Day twenty._  
He stood up again, paced.

 _Day twenty one._  
He watched the door.

 _Day twenty two._  
He waited.

 _Day twenty three._  
He was getting hungry.

 _Day twenty four._  
He sighed.

 _Day twenty five._  
He leaned his head back, urging his body to relax. Failed.

 _Day twenty six._  
Aro was dead.

 _Day twenty seven._  
He was thirsty.

 _Day twenty eight._  
He was thirsty. That is all he could think about.

 _Day twenty nine._  
He was thirsty.

 _Day thirty._  
The door was unlocked.

“Have you had enough yet?” mr A asked.  
Carlisle swallowed, pushing against the wall to stand up. “Yes,” he said, his voice sounding a little rough. 

The second lock was turned, the door sliding open, thin rays of light came in. Carlisle stood still, his back against the wall, blinking rapidly to help his eyes focus after so much time in the dark.  
Footsteps echoed loudly and mr A appeared inside the box, his stance certain. He looked at the still vampire who was waiting for him and smiled to himself. That was easy, he thought.  
“I knew you were a smart man,” he said and motioned for the same two guards to come in.   
Carlisle eyed them suspiciously, but didn't move when they approached him, one carrying a needle, the other a pair of handcuffs. He swallowed thickly but let them tie his wrists together. They moved back, without using the needle.

Mr A was smiling, “Are you ready to talk?”  
Carlisle looked at the handcuffs, but didn't try their strength. He looked out of the box, towards the other room that wasn't doomed to eternal darkness, then back at the agent.  
Mr A shifted his weight, moving a step back and Carlisle felt dread for a moment, that he was going to be left in this box again.   
“Yes,” he spat out hastily and the agent nodded, satisfied. He turned his back to the vampire and walked out of the box, the two guards getting hold of Carlisle's arms pushing him to follow.

At the threat of being sedated at any move, Carlisle made sure to not give them any chance. He was led to the interrogation room he was the last time, mr A taking a seat, and the two guards pushed him to sit as well, locking his hands on the table between them. Carlisle did not look at them, trying to focus away from their blood flow, but his ears kept reminding him.   
God he was hungry.

Mr A inspected him for a long moment in silence, his face blank, intimidating. Carlisle was wearing a frown, it was difficult to hide his discomfort. The room was small, crowded, with insufficient fresh air. The smell of blood making great efforts to break his defenses.

The agent leaned forward, resting on his forearms "What is your name?"  
Carlisle pinned him with his eyes, "Carlisle," he said after a moment.  
"Your full name," the agent said again. He knew, of course. They had done extensive research on the vampire, he just wanted to see how co operative he would be.

Carlisle contemplated him for a long moment. Was there a point in lying, or withholding information? He was sure the agent knew everything there was to know about _Carlisle Cullen._

"I thought you said you were ready to talk," the agent pulled back, made to stand up, "If not, you can spend as much time in the box as you want."  
Carlisle did not let him out of his sight. The agent's heartbeat was steady, calm, it was driving him crazy.  
"Cullen."  
The agent nodded, his expression not shifting in the slightest.  
"Where are you from?"  
Carlisle's eyes narrowed a little, "London." There were nowhere any papers that said otherwise. The agent nodded, Carlisle was sure he was listening closely to his words, trying to pick out accent, tone, colour. He made sure to speak as little as possible.  
"How old are you?" The agent made himself a little more comfortable.  
Carlisle thought about it, "Twenty three."  
The agent nodded, "How did you enjoy the box?"  
_Fuck you_ , Carlisle kept his face impassive.

"I suggest you get comfortable, cause this will be your home from now on."  
No reaction.

"You created quite the turmoil, for a while we did not know what to do with your kind. It's fine, we have a plan now. And you play a critical role." The agent was using his hands a lot when he spoke. "Those two vampires, in Hungary, who were they?"

Carlisle tilted his head the tiniest bit, but remained silent. _Did Caius and Marcus not give them their names?_

"Who were they to you?" the agent asked again.  
Carlisle kept his eyes on the agent, his mind drifting all the time to the fresh blood flowing inside his body. His throat had gone dry, but the agent was out of distance.  
"The other one," the agent said, and didn't miss the way the vampire focused better on him, "The one that got shot down. Who was he to you?"  
Carlisle's fists clenched in his cuffs against his will, his fangs slipped down, a growl threatened to leave his chest but he swallowed it at the last possible moment.  
The agent looked at him now, interested. 

"Who was he?" he taunted the vampire, watched him get angrier. "You understand why he had to be put down, right?" he said and Carlisle couldn't hold himself back anymore, his rage leaving his lungs in a terrifying, carnivorous growl.   
He jumped up, the handcuffs not nearly strong enough to hold him down. He was hungry, and the agent in front of him was fair game. He was so close to showing his teeth and going for the kill, the distance was nothing, one step, he meant to take it, end the disrespect, end the taunting.   
He was shot.   
The arrow with the sedatives. 

He fell unconscious, not having taken that step. 

He woke up in the box again.  
Goddamn it, he was getting really tired of the box already.   
He punched the wall once.  
Who knew how for long he would be left there again.  
He punched the wall.  
He had to do something. He had to get out of this place.   
He punched the wall.  
This box appeared invincible, but outside of here, he had chances. Maybe he should run for it.  
He punched the wall.  
Maybe he should kill the guards first, and then run for it.  
He punched the wall.  
Where was he anyway?  
He had woken up from the drug a lot sooner this time. He was becoming immune.  
It was about fucking time.  
Next time they shot him, he might not even pass out. Unless of course, they changed the drugs. He was sure he was being watched at all times.  
He punched the wall two consecutive times, making sure he could feel his fists ache for a minute afterwards.  
Perhaps he should not run. Maybe it would be easier if he proved to be more dangerous than he was worth. Maybe they would shoot him.  
He rested his forehead on the wall, just for one breath and punched it again, before slipping down with his back against it.

Oh god, Aro was dead. Aro was dead, he didn't know where his family was, he was stuck in that stupid box and he would be used as a science experiment.  
He pressed his hands to his eyes, trying to calm down.  
He was hungry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, here it is, hope you enjoy. kudos and comments make my mood for daaayyys. thank you so mcuh for reading


	3. Nothing

The agent left Carlisle in the metal box for days. No one was allowed to approach the vampire's cage. He could hear nothing beyond the walls, he could see nothing in the absolute darkness.

Carlisle knew that the agent was trying to condition him to associate the agent with a pleasant emotion, trying to isolate him from everyone else and be his only company. It would be a good tactic if Carlilse had not spent more than half his life with no one but himself and his own thoughts.

That being said, his own self, was not necessarily good company. He just knew how to navigate the maze of his mind, after all this time and keep certain thoughts quiet.

So when the door was unlocked, Carlisle felt excited.

He was handcuffed and pushed to follow the two guards he had come to recognise. He doubted he would ever learn their names, so he called them Chip and Dale in his head.

The agent was waiting for him in the usual room. Locked in a closed space with a human, Carlisle hated that.

“Vamp, hello. Did you miss me?” the agent asked.

Carlisle kept his breathing to the lowest side.

“I was out on a mission, didn't actually mean to leave you alone for so long, but what can you do,” the agent rambled and Carlisle had a fleeting thought that he was tired. Really tired.

“I was alright,” Carlisle said.

The agent gave him a smile, “Okay, here is what I want from you,” he said and folded his arms on the table in front of him.

Carlisle kept his expression impassive.

“I want you to tell me how one can change into a vampire.”

Carlisle raised his eyebrows.

“It involves biting, obviously. But”- the agent gestured with one hand- “Those two in Hungary had bitten people, and nothing happened. You haven't bitten anyone yet, but we'll get there.”

Carlisle frowned, his first thought being to defend himself.

“Come on, work with me here. I just got back from pain in the ass mission. It will be so much easier if you just talk to me.”

Carlisle took a deep breath out of habit and regretted it immediately. The scent of blood a little too strong, too appealing.

“Venom,” he said simply as if that explained everything.

The agent stared at him, pressed his lips together, urging the vampire to continue. Carlisle had nothing more to say on the matter.

The agent clicked his tongue, “Venom? How? We have checked everything in your body. It is not in your blood, not in your saliva, not your stomach, not your mouth. How then?”

Carlisle studied him, certain he would be tested, but not expecting it to have already happened while he was unconscious.

The agent sighed, not giving the vampire much time to think about his answer, changing the subject quickly. “You know, you were easy to look into, you did nothing in hiding. The other three, though?” he chuckled. “We have nothing. Not even their names. Can you help with that?”

Carlisle blinked, keeping his face completely emotionless.

“We have  _ some _ names you might be familiar with,” the agent pulled away, leaning back on his chair. “They share your last name and have gone missing as of late. I think it is quite likely, you are related. Who would you prefer we went after? Your people or two random vampires in Europe?”

Carlisle pulled away as well, unsettled by the information but not really surprised.

The agent flicked his eyebrows up for a moment when it was clear Carlisle would not answer. “Esme Cullen. Does the name ring a bell?” he asked.

Carlisle pretended to think about it, and shook his head.

“Really? 'Cause we have multiple papers that claim you were married.”

Carlisle shrugged. “What did you expect me to say?”

“Okay, we'll get back to that.”

He stood up and stretched. Carlisle stopped breathing altogether.

“Your eyes. They had an interesting color.” He walked closer to the vampire, carelessly closer. “Explain.”

Carlisle refused to meet his eyes, choosing to stubbornly look at the empty chair in front of him. “What is there to explain?”

The agent slapped him and Carlilse felt dizzy. How was the agent doing that?

“Your eyes are not red. The two in Hungary had red eyes when we caught them. When they got hungry, their eyes turned black. Yours were orange something. Why?”

Carlisle tried to get his breathing under control, with the agent standing next to him it was very difficult to think.

_ Blood, blood, blood. _

“Animals,” he stammered out.

The agent leaned over him, trapping him, with one hand on the back of his chair and the other on the table, he was so close, so close...

“Animals?”

Carlilse nodded, “Yes, I drink from animals, not people,” he managed through clenched teeth, fighting to keep his fangs at bay.

The agent moved back, straightened his pose, “And that changes your eyes from red to orange?”

Carlisle nodded again.

“Interesting.” The agent walked out of the room.

Carlsle could breathe again, and he let the air flow in and out of his lungs freely.

Soon the two guards came to bring the vampire back to his metal box.

_ This is unfair _ , Carlisle thought. He had answered the agent's questions that day, why was he back here. Why was nothing different?

* * * *

He was left in the box for days and days and days. He had little to do but think, and inevitably his thoughts ended up on Aro. And the more he thought about Aro the more it hurt him that he would not see him again.

* * *

The agent moved around the vampire, making sure all the wires were placed correctly. Carlisle's hands were cuffed to the table and he had been drugged with an extra strong dose of the sedative cocktail. The agent passed his hand through the blond hair with no reaction.  _ Perfect _ .

“Vamp, let me tell you what is going on, here. You have cables strapped to your temples, neck, and biceps. This box right here, makes the volts go up. I control it, and all you have to do is answer a few questions.” He sat in his usual seat, and Carlilse slowly focused his gaze on the agent. It was so difficult. It took all his mental strength just to focus.

“You give me an answer I don't like” - he turned a nub on the box and let the current of electricity run free. Carlisle's jaw clenched shut and the buzz spread to his entire body instantly. The agent turned the nub in the other direction, releasing Carlisle. The vampire panted, trying to catch his breath. The agent watched in fascination, it was the first time he witnessed such an expression of physical pain from the vampire.

Carlisle recovered quickly, his blood was still aching.

The agent gave him another moment to fully come back to himself, aware that it took the vampire longer than usual to pull himself together. It was necessary, because apparently the vampire could not be contained the way the two in Hungary could. This was a way to find if electricity would be a better solution.

“You have a heartbeat,” the agent said.

“You sound surprised.” Carlisle felt his tongue heavy and uncooperative.

“Yes I am. Would a wooden stake kill you?”

“Why don't you try it?”

The agent chuckled, “Let's start easy, yeah? What is your name?”

Carlisle looked down at his hands, “Carlisle Cullen,” he said in a thicker accent that he would have wanted.

“Is that your real name?”

Carlisle nodded.

“There are quite a lot of people with that name.”

“Carlisle?” the vampire asked, really confused.

“Cullen,” the agent scoffed but almost felt bad for finding it funny. The man was drugged. “You had children?”

Calisle shook his head.

“Many brothers?”

“No. Not one.”

“Cousins then.”

Carlisle shook his head again. “No cousins. No legitimate ones anyway.”

The agent paused and smiled, “What do you mean?”

“I had an uncle. He traveled a lot,” Carlisle said, seeming to try really hard to think about it.

The agent chuckled, “Tell me about him.”

“I don't remember,” Carlisle said, a little too quickly for the agent's liking. He turned the nub for a moment, stealing the majority of Carlisle's motor skills. So far it seemed that electricity did an adequate job.

“What was his name?”

Carlisle was panting again, starting to sweat. He shook his head, wanting the agent to understand. “I don't remember. We don't remember much from our human life.”

The agent paused, his eyebrows raising. Interesting. “What  _ do _ you remember?”

“My father had one brother and many first cousins,” Carlisle said, “I never met them. I only saw my uncle a few times.”

He almost sounded... sad about that, the agent thought.

“Why is that?” the agent asked, curious and feeling strangely interested. As if this was information he was not supposed to know.

Carlisle shrugged a little, “My father was a pastor,” he said as if that explained everything.

The agent raised his eyebrows even higher.

_ What? _ Now that was funny. A pastor's son becoming a vampire. This could potentially narrow down the list of  _ Cullens _ and significantly speed their research.

“And how were you changed? A mission gone wrong?” the agent joked but choked on it when Carlilse nodded. “What happened?” he asked, caught off guard.

“I got bitten,” Carlisle shrugged. It was easy to play the fool when the agent was expecting him to be intoxicated.

“By who?”

Carlisle shrugged again. The agent zapped him for a moment, frustrated. He had stalled enough, he thought, and went back to the most important question.

“Is the venom somewhere in your teeth?” the agent asked.

Carlisle did not answer him, he didn't even look at the agent. He was zapped again, this time for longer and he clenched his fists tight.

“You can control it?” the agent asked before lowering the volts. Carlisle looked at him and smirked, a droplet of sweat rolled from his eyebrow to his cheek.

“Answer me, vamp.” Mr A pressed his lips together and turned the button again, higher. Carlisle flexed his jaw so hard a tendon snapped.

“Have you made any vampires?” the agent asked, getting increasingly angrier.

“No.” Carlisle sounded sincere. His fingertips tingled long after the shock ended.

“Is it true that a maker has control over the ones they create?”

Carlisle tilted his head, that was a very specific and untrue piece of information. “No.”

“I don't believe you.”

Carlilse lowered his eyes to his tied wrists, concealing the fact that the drug had already lost its effect. He had become quite immune to it. “I can't do anything about that.” He allowed his tongue to drawl on purpose, speak in the same thick, unidentifiable accent as before.

“Have you not made any vampires, really?”

“Really.”

“And the ones that share your name?”

Carlisle huffed out a breath, a sound that resembled a laugh. “If what you said about makers was true, and if I had made any vampires, don't you think they would have come for me by now?”

The agent was silent for a moment, the vampire sounded a little too honest.

“Tell me how to make a vampire,” the agent said.

Carlisle looked at him, showing his clear, focused, black eyes. “Why did you kill him?”

The agent paused for just a second, the vampire sounded truly sad, truly broken, then he turned the button way higher than before. “You don't ask questions. Tell me, how to make a vampire.”

“What will be different if I tell you?” Carlisle pulled at the chains on his wrists. Nothing would be different. Even if he told them everything he knew about venom, nothing would change.

Mr A lost his patience and in a quick motion, he slapped Carlisle across the face with the back of his hand.

Carlisle felt the pain from his jaw travel all across his nerves behind his eyes.

“How do you do that?” he asked while trying to regain control of his eyesight. The more the agent he wanted him not to question anything, the more Carlisle would try to steal some answers.

The agent smiled, “It hurts doesn't it?” he turned the back of his hand towards the vampire, relishing how Carlisle flinched back, “It's the ring.”

Carlisle blinked several times trying to focus.

And then he did, and he burst out laughing.

A golden ring, with a black flat face, and an engraved 'C' on it. The agent stared at him, the reaction completely unexpected.

“You stole Cai's ring? Oh agent, I will pray for you.” Carlisle said between laughs.

_ Kai? _ He had been given a name.

The agent changed some settings on the device before flicking a switch. A very mild but continuous buzz ran through the vampire's body, forcing his heart to synchronize with it. It felt like a constant panic attack. Carlisle tried to unclench his jaw and failed.

“Who is Kai?”

“I did not plan to hunt you down agent, but you will not escape from him.” Carlisle said through gritted teeth.

The agent raised the voltage, forcing a trembling moan from the vampire. “That sounds like a threat.”

Carlilse shook his head, “Nothing but a simple fact.”

The agent nodded, raising the volts more, “I want you to give me venom.”

Carlisle furrowed his eyebrows, “You shouldn't have gotten his brothers. He loved me, sure, but his family was too importanttt,” his jaw snapped shut when the voltage went up again, his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth.

“Those two in Hungary? They were brothers? Is Kai one of them?”

“When you meet him, don't call him Kai, he doesn't like it.” Carlisle ached with every word, but he enjoyed playing this game a little too much. Confusing the agent, giving him random pieces of information that the agent would take as important.

The agent sat back,  _ so Carlisle knew the other two vampires, and apparently quite well. _

“Tell me his name then.”

“You didn't have to kill him, he was only protecting his own.”

“Listen to me, vampire, you have two options here.” The agent lost his patience playing Carlisle's game. It was neither man's first interrogation. It was obvious the vampire wanted to redirect the conversation to something that the agent would be interested in, but this was not what the agent  _ needed _ to know in this moment. “Either you give me venom, or I rip your teeth out and take it myself.”

“He was always so sweet. Not for anyone else, though,” Carlisle continued as if the agent had not spoken.

This time mr A turned the voltage all the way up, as high as it could go and pushed against the table to get up. “Who the fuck was he?”

“Do you think you could understand soulmatesss,” Carlisle said before the shock stopped his heart. His face hit the table, his body spasmed periodically. Mr A turned off the device and stormed off the room.

What a useless fucking day this was.

  
  
  
  


_ Carlisle couldn't move, couldn't breathe, the current was trapped under his skin, it seemed. _

_ And then everything went on hold. _

_ He was standing dressed like he had been before passing out. He looked around. _

_ Nothing. _

_ No light, no darkness, no horizon. _

_ Nothing. _

_ He didn't feel fear. He felt nothing. _

  
  


_ He took a step forward and nothing changed. He took another step. _

_ Someone appeared in front of him. _

_ It was a reflection of himself. The vision looked just like him, except it couldn't have been him because the vision spoke on its own. _

“ _ Where am I?” Carlisle questioned after failing to hear what the vision had said. _

“ _ I can't let you die. Not yet,” it sounded like Carlisle but not quite. _

“ _ Who are you?” Carlisle asked, knowing he should be stressed, knowing this was an important moment. _

_ But it almost felt like he had seen it all before. _

“ _ You are not done,” the vision said and wrapped itself around Carlisle in a blur of motion. _

  
  


Carlisle jumped up at the contact and found that he was back into the prison box. He was relieved but couldn't tell why.

Something about a place in Nowhere, someone he had met before but couldn't tell when, a strong feeling of deja vu.

The darkness of the box felt very reassuring for some reason.

* *

He called Aro's name that night many times, a hint of desperation in his voice. It was getting increasingly difficult to keep his mind distracted and avoid thinking about Aro. He didn't know what he was calling Aro for.

Help? Direction? Reassurance?

  
  


* *

After days upon days of isolation he found himself tied to a chair, his arms tightly stuck to his sides, the sound of a magnetic field enough proof that he would be unable to break the bonds. There was nothing in the room except for a machine that did not betray its purpose. It looked like it had a hydraulic press, but Carlisle couldn't be sure. An intricate metallic tool was forced into his mouth shoving his lips away and pressing down on his tongue. It was uncomfortable and it made him feel nervous.

“You know, we could have avoided this if only you gave me what I wanted,” mr A said.

Carlisle felt the tool in his mouth push his jaw open and a metallic, blunt spike push behind each one of his fangs.

He tried to move again, panicked. Nothing changed

.

A man came closer to him, he looked like a dentist from a child's nightmare. He was wearing a strange pair of glasses, the kind that enlarged the image in front of you if you focused right. Carlisle writhed in his bonds trying not to allow the man to touch him with no success. The dentist pulled something from his lab coat pocket and held the vampire with a tight grip on his hair. Carlisle couldn't see what the man was holding, but his curiosity would be sated soon.

The dentist pressed a button and the unmistakable sound of a drill echoed in the room. Carlisle's breathing became erratic, his heart was pounding in his chest and he could do nothing. The dentist lifted the drill in front of him and leaned even closer. With a steady hand on Carlisle's hair he pressed the drill into the vampire's top left fang. Before Carlisle could register pain, the drill came through the other side and the dentist pulled it out quickly, putting it back into his pocket, and moving fast in fear that the vampire's healing ability would cancel out his accomplishment. He put a thin nail through his fang, the exact size of the hole he had made. Carlisle was feeling the pain now.

Venom spilled from his tooth, it burned him and he wasn't sure why. Perhaps his body thought he could fight the  _ enemy _ with extra strong venom, Carlisle thought and wanted to laugh. 

The agent leaned closer to watch better, noticing the flowing liquid was not blood.

The dentist connected the nail to the machine with what looked like cables and pushed down on a lever.

_ Oh god.  _ Carlsle felt pressure on his fang, it was being pulled downwards. The more the dentist pushed on the lever the more force was used on pulling. His eyes started to sting and he screamed in pain.

It would have been a growl if he could move his tongue and jaw.

The fang came down to biting length and then it really started resisting the pull. Carlisle felt like it had gripped the nerves directly from his brain and was pulling them through a gravel road. He couldn't stop screaming, it became too much, he couldn't take it, his vision went black.

The dentist stopped pushing for a second, and Carlisle opened his eyes.

Except this time they looked empty.

He went silent suddenly, as if there was nothing that caused him pain anymore.

He made eye contact with the agent, his black, dead stare causing the agent to break out in sweat while the dentist applied all his strength to the lever.

Something was not right here, the agent thought but could barely reflect on it, trapped by the deadly stare.

Carlisle's fang began slipping out of his gums. The vampire didn't even blink when the longest root was pulled out. His mouth was flooded with blood and venom, his body trying to prevent anything getting in. Carlisle did his best to swallow down the overflowing mix of fluids, but he didn't manage to stop it from dripping out the sides of his mouth.

_ So this is a weak spot _ , the agent thought and leaned closer with a cotton stick and a small vial, taking samples of the flowing liquid with shaking hands.

The dentist held the fang in his gloved hand for a moment, amazed at it. It was a little longer than an inch, curved backwards, with uneven, spiked roots. He put the fang on the top of the machine and used a bottle of disinfectant alcohol to clean the blood from the vampire's mouth, careless that he had stained his sleeves.

The alcohol hit the vampire's throat, making him cough, but apart from that, Carlisle did not make a sound.

The dentist looked at the open wound he had created. A new tooth didn't seem to be growing yet. Makes sense, he thought. It was long with complicated, invisible roots, and most likely multiple nerve endings.. It would take the vampire great effort and time to rebuild such an intricate part.

Another person came in the room and the agent passed them the samples, presumably to be analysed.

The dentist cleaned the tooth with alcohol and then submerged it in a small container filled with water. He then lifted it in the air, towards the light and brought it closer to his eyes. He looked it over, amazed at it. He passed one finger over the point, feeling how sharp it was.

It really wasn't that sharp.

He frowned, returning his attention to the vampire. His mouth had again been filled with red liquid, traveling along his teeth, painting them red. The dentist passed his finger over Carlisle's other top fang, the sharp end breaking his glove and the blood latching on to the latex.

That was weird. Because the bone on its own, was not so sharp as to break the glove, but when it was connected to the rest of the biting system it was.

The agent watched, interested, but not really understanding what the dentist was looking for.

“Sir, I'm going to take this and study it a little better in the lab. From a first glance, I can't see how the venom flows from it. I'll do some X rays, and maybe I'll have to cut it open.”

“Alright. You have permission to do whatever it takes. Don't be afraid to break it, he has three more.” The agent told the scientist and turned to Carlisle who had not reacted to anything at all.

“Now, vamp, tell me, was it worth it?”

The scientist released the pressure on the machine, allowing Carlisle to relax his jaw. He slowly took out the tool that was keeping the vampire's tongue down, and retrieved back the points pressed against his teeth. He gathered up the machine, and pushed it to the back of the room to be cleaned, before removing his bloody gloves and throwing them away.

Carlisle closed his mouth slowly, passed his tongue around his teeth, over his lips, cleaning up the blood and the venom, swallowing. And then very very carefully passed his tongue over the missing fang. It stung, but he knew it would be necessary. He looked up at the agent, his stare still dead  _ and _ deadly and he smiled when he heard the man's heart accelerate. The agent was scared.

Soon, Chip and Dale came into the room, untied his hands and he willingly followed them, turning his back on the agent.

  
  


When the heavy door was shut behind him and he was left in complete darkness, he took a few calming breaths. His entire jaw was numb, and so were his arms, and the tips of his fingers.

It was strange that his legs felt completely fine. They could take him running to the other side of the world.

He walked to the nearest wall, leaned his weight against it, slid down slowly. It hurt so much. He couldn't keep himself up. He rested his head on the wall and let himself relax. His eyes went back to the starved black instead of the dead one and the pain hit him like a tidal wave. The blood and the venom that had not stopped flowing, and he swallowed it all down.

* * *

He was left in isolation for a week, every day mr A came to check if new teeth had started appearing yet.

They hadn't.

Carlisle was awake for little time during this week. His body used all the energy to heal and create a new fang and he felt quite safe in the box anyway. If anyone was to enter he would not manage to do so without the vampire waking up.

Swallowing hurt. Pressing his jaw down hurt. Speaking hurt. He didn't know for how long he would be granted this peace. He hadn't been given a drop of blood the entire time he was imprisoned.

He had needed to do a lot of healing. He didn't know where his body found the necessary resources to heal him. He guessed he didn't have much left to spare. He had to drink blood soon.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello people! hopefully this story will give you a break from all that is going on. leave your thoughts in the comments maybe? thank you for reading


	4. An absolute fool

The following day, when the gate was opened, the pull of false gravity forced Carlisle to the floor. He was surprised, he had almost forgotten about the metal band around his middle.

The agent walked inside, a confidence in his step that he really ought not to have around the vampire.

Carlisle had landed on his back, exposed and uneasy.

“Hello, vamp. I really wish we could do this any other way, but you are proven quite difficult,” the agent walked so he was standing behind Carlisle's head, far enough that the vampire would not be able to reach him.

“It has come to my attention, that you have not asked for blood yet.”

Carlisle kept his eyes straight down, refusing to bend his head backwards, and expose his neck, just to look at the agent.

“Well, today is the day. I have a bag in my hands. Reach one hand towards me, slowly.”

“Human blood?” Carlisle asked and the agent hummed.

Carlisle frowned, today was absolutely not the day he would drink human blood.

“Reach one hand slowly to me, and I'll give it to you. Come on, nice and easy.”

“No.”

The agent faltered for a moment.

“What do you mean no? You are clearly hungry.”

“I will not drink human blood,” Carlisle said and clenched his fists, because he really, really wanted to drink some blood. He wasn't desperate yet, but he was close.

“Oh I see how it is. Playing the high and mighty. Okay,” the agent took another step back, for good measure and unsealed the blood bag.

Carlisle forced himself not to breathe. The agent pushed on the bottom of the bag, forcing the liquid to soak his fingers and then slowly, tantalizingly, it dripped on the floor.

Carlisle tensed more, the sound of droplets hitting the concrete too loud, too appealing and he turned his head away from it.

“Would you drink if it was alive blood?” the agent asked, an idea just forming in his mind.

Carlisle shook his head, refusing to speak and accidentally allow the smell in his senses. He thought it would overwhelm him, break him.

“Alright, then, stay hungry.”

The agent moved to the gate, forcing more blood out of the bag, and flicking his bloodied fingers towards Carlisle face. The vampire was fast, moving his hands up for protection, but he didn't manage to get them all. A few drops landed on his face. He violently pressed his mouth and nose to his shoulder.

The agent chuckled and the gates closed behind him.

Quickly, the gravitational pull was released and Carlisle jumped up, taking off his shirt and wiping his face with it roughly, needing to get every tiny bit of blood off his skin. He let his eyes scan the floor, and while still holding his breath, he bent over the spilled blood and wiped it with the shirt, careful not to get it on his clothes, even though the collar of the orange jumpsuit was spoiled. When he had done everything he could, he bundled up the ruined piece of clothing, and carefully, so as not to spread the scent all over the metal box, he pushed it in a corner, making sure to stay on the opposite one, as far away as he could.

When he thought he was calm and in control, he took a tentative breath.

_This isn't so bad._

He allowed himself to breathe normally again. It was alright, the scent was definitely there but he had anticipated something worse. This he could do with ease.

Right, but for how long?

How long could he go on like this?

Would his family come for him at any point?

Did he want them to come and risk getting caught? Did he want them to go through any of this?

No...

He wondered where they may be. Were they safe? Were they together?

He hoped they were together...

He didn't wish for any of them to be alone.

But had they really left _him_ alone?

And could he live with that, if it was true?

* *

The agent did not let him be at peace, he came back in the box the following day, forcing Carlisle on the floor again.

“I have a suggestion. You will have to give me your hand.”

“Not interested.”

The agent hummed, amused. “It is no longer a suggestion then. You are moving to a normal cell. Give me your hand.”

The vampire froze. _What?_

“I'm perfectly content here,” Carlisle said.

“That is the problem, vampire. I think you have it too easy here.”

The agent clicked his tongue, and pressed a button on a remote control, activating the metal band's other function. Carlisle felt it cutting his breath short, and not stopping. It pressed tighter and tighter, his muscles did everything they could to push back, but it was too strong.

God, it would cut him in half.

Carlisle reached one hand to the agent while the other flew to his middle, in an attempt to relieve the pressure around his stomach with no success. Quickly the agent grabbed his hand, snapping a similar metal band around his wrist.

“Now the other one,” he commanded and Carlisle did not waste any time, stretching his hand back towards the agent. Another band was secured and the agent released the vice hold on Carlisle's abdomen. The band stretched back, Carlisle gasped loudly, and took multiple unnecessary breaths, the scent of blood flooding in.

“Isn't it always easier when you just do what I say?” the agent asked and moved back a little. Carlisle was still recovering when the gravity let up.

He froze, unwilling to move.

“Go on. Stand.”

Carlisle was careful, suspicious. He slowly pushed his body up to sit, and just as slowly to stand. He turned to face the agent and found him smiling.

“Try it,” the agent urged, spreading out his hands.

He was not holding anything, he would not _do_ anything.

Carlisle did not move an inch.

“What is this?” he asked.

“You have to try it, it is genius,” the agent had not lost his smile for a second, a little too confident in his technology.

Carlisle considered for a moment. There was no chance he was _free_ in any way and it would be better if he knew how the cuffs worked before attempting anything and finding himself in an unfamiliar situation.

He took a step closer to the agent. Nothing happened.

“Faster,” the agent commanded.

Carlisle went faster, and when he was close enough he reached one hand forward to grab the agent. Both his hands flew to the band around his middle, stuck there, secured and unmoving. Carlisle halted in his step and looked at the ever present smile on the agent's face.

“Try to grab me again,” the agent prompted. And Carlisle pushed against the hold, feeling something in them click and a current of electricity sent him to the floor, paralyzed. It didn't hurt that bad, but he couldn't move at all.

The agent pressed a button, stopping the electric flow, and watched as the vampire panted and fought to regain his balance and stand, his wrists still stuck to his middle.

“Genius isn't it?” he asked and motioned for the vampire to walk to the door.

He was indeed moving him to a normal cell.

Well... a cell that had an electric gate specifically designed to react to the cuffs he was wearing. But there Carlisle would be surrounded by the other inmates. Because no matter what the vampire had assumed, this place was a _normal_ prison. With just a few... additions. To accommodate... _special_ prisoners.

Carlisle did not answer the question, and felt relieved when he saw that Chip and Dale were standing outside the box, waiting for them. The familiarity eased his mind.

The two guards led the way to corridors that had been so far unexplored. Carlisle was following silent, wary. Even though his hands were tied, it would not have been difficult to bite one of them.

Of course, if he had both his fangs.

He found that he was unable to let venom flow now that he was missing one of them. He didn't know that would happen. Interesting for sure but it rendered him vulnerable.

Their first stop was a shower room.

Two rows of showers were lining both walls, a towel hanged on a rag and a bar of soap was placed next to it.

_How thoughtful_ , Carlisle thought and almost chuckled.

“Alright vampire, stay still,” Chip said and waited until Carlisle nodded to proceed. He then pressed something on the belt of his uniform, releasing the hold on Carlisle's wrists. The vampire stayed still, as instructed.

“Undress,” Chip said again, and both he and Dale took a step back, giving Carlisle some space, and perhaps, putting some distance between them, so if Carlisle decided to try his luck, the cuffs would have time to re-activate.

But Carlisle was not going to try his luck. Not when the only people in the front line were the two guards, who were most likely just doing their job.

So he undressed and stood in front of the guards, waiting for his next instruction. Trying to pay attention to the guards and not to the band around his body.

“Alright, you see the soap? You take it and pick a shower. Be quick.” Dale instructed him this time.

Carlisle walked to the rag, picked up the bar of soap and turned on the first shower, choosing to only let cold water flow. He was unsure if he should be facing the guards or the wall, but as long as he wasn't specifically told, he chose the wall.

The fresh, cold water should have felt like salvation on his skin, but it didn't. It didn't feel like anything at all.

He stood with his head low for a moment, thinking that this would have been a great chance to ask to be cleansed of sin, if he truly felt regret.

But he didn't.

He rubbed the soap bar between his hands, and went for his face first, the stubble that had grown on his cheeks after all this time, tickling his palms. He thought of using the soap to slip the cuffs off his wrists, and tried it. They immediately reacted, sticking to his middle again.

“Don't try that again,” Dale said and released him quickly from the hold.

Carlisle smiled, he liked Dale, he sounded like a man who understood.

He made quick work of cleaning his body, and then, seeing that he had no other option, he used the soap bar to clean his hair as well.

When he was finished, he turned off the water and faced the guards. Chip nodded his head towards the towel and Carlisle made his way there, picking it up and drying his neck and chest first, then his hair before wrapping it around his waist, letting the rest of the water dry on his skin, cool him down. He had seen no clothes around other than the ones he had been wearing, and he doubted he would be instructed to clean up only to wear the same ones. He caught a glimpse of himself in one of the mirrors.

“May I shave?” he asked and the guards shared a look.

Chip picked up something from a large cupboard. He showed it to Carlisle and the vampire moved to get it.

_Careless_ , he thought but returned in front of a mirror.

If he wanted to, he could break out one of the blades, and throw it towards the guard without activating the cuffs' reaction to speed. And he would have hit his target perfectly, he would have put another name on the ever growing list of lives he had taken.

The guards activated the pull again in order to lead Carlisle to the right corridor and into a normal looking prison cell. Carlisle went willingly, and the metal gate locked behind him. Carlisle did not move for another moment, he simply looked around, taking in the new environment, listening to the guards' footsteps as they walked away.

No one else was in the corridor in that moment, but Carlisle could smell the lingering scent of _people_ from all around him.

He lifted his hands to look at the cuffs properly for the first time. He could not see any obvious mechanism, or circuit and he couldn't _feel_ it anywhere under a layer of metal.

_How did these things work?_

He turned towards the bed, finding a fresh pair of clothes and slowly put them on, looking around, unsure of what to do with the towel.

In the cell, across from his own, the inmate had it hanging from a tiny hook on the wall. He looked around his own cell, searching for something similar and found it. He let the towel hang there and dry.

This was strange. There was no guard in the corridor that he could pick up neither by smell, nor sound. He walked around, looking for anything out of the ordinary and found nothing. He stood in front of the gate, thinking.

What are the chances that the gate was a normal one that he could simply push through and exit? Zero? Below zero?

He closed one fist around a metal bar of the gate. Nothing happened.

He frowned. There was something under the metal, buzzing. He pushed his hand through the bars, making sure the cuff was all the way out and he was immediately struck with an electric shock, originating from the cuffs on his wrists. He tumbled to the floor, pulling his hand in quickly, but the current did not stop for another few seconds.

He pulled himself together, and moved away from the gate.

God how had he managed to get in such a mess.

* *

In all honesty, Carlisle wasn't sure what the agent was expecting when he placed him in the cell. Did he expect that Carlisle would lose it with so many people around, did he expect the vampire to be smarter than he actually was and figure out a way not to activate the electric current? Because Carlisle had tried, he really had tried and he couldn't think of anything to do.

The night had passed uneventfully. The only remarkable thing was that the inmate across Carlisle had nodded at him. Once.

The agent left him in the cell for a few days, and Carlisle could not see the point. He grew accustomed to the smell of all the people around him, and he just made sure not to be close to the gate when the guard made his patrol. It had not been easy, but he had been doing it his entire life.

He wasn't let out with the other inmates, so he spent most of the day on his own, just as he had been in the box. The biggest difference was that sunlight could make its way through, and he wasn't in devouring darkness all the time.

He could feel his fang now, it was almost rebuilt, and in the next few days it would start poking through his gums, be functional again. It had taken a lot more energy than he had anticipated.

The agent came by his cell one morning, ordered him not to speak with any of the inmates or there would be... consequences.

Carlisle had chuckled but agreed. No one had tried to talk to him as of yet, and Carlisle would not begin any conversation either. He spent most of the day lost in his own thoughts, anyway.

* *

The next morning, when the rest of the inmates were let out for breakfast and later free time, the agent was in front of his cell, a remote and a new metal band in his hands. Carlisle immediately knew this meant danger.

“Morning,” the agent greeted him, cheerful as ever. “May I point something out?” he asked, and Carlisle was almost certain the agent would comment on his shaven face and Carlisle would have to explain to some degree that vampires did grow hair just a lot slower.

“Your hair has grown thicker,” the agent said and Carlisle frowned, surprised. He looked down at himself, turning his hands over to look at his forearms.

_Huh, it is true._

“Why?” the agent asked.

“Adapting I suppose,” Carlisle replied.

The agent nodded, not quite getting it. “I was also informed that you have grown shorter and thinner.”

Carlisle looked at the cuffs now. Could they have some receptor that took constant samples of his body? Because he knew he had not been measured after the first day, while he was unconscious.

“You're tiring me out,” Carlisle said, not giving the agent much to work with.

The agent let a moment pass and seeing that the vampire would not speak further on the matter, he passed the new metal band through the bars.

“I want you to put this around your neck,” he said and Carlisle took a step back.

“Come on, the other way would be to drug you and I think you would like that less,” he added.

Carlisle thought about it. What would it mean if he took the band and placed it around his own neck? Wouldn't it be a sheer display of submission to the agent?

“I promise when we get back, you'll take it off. It is just for my protection, you see, you'll go to the yard today.” The agent had not lost his courage.

Slowly, tentatively, hating himself with every step, Carlisle took hold of the band.

“There you go. It is like the ones on your wrists. I suppose you would not like to try it out.”

Carlisle looked at it like he was studying an object of mythical powers. Could he trust the agent?

Absolutely not.

Did he want to be drugged again and forced into the unconscious world that has always hated him?

Absolutely not.

He slowly lifted his hands and closed the band around his own neck, feeling it snap shut and tighten a little, before releasing back, finding the perfect size on its own .

The agent smiled like he had just received the most brilliant, the most ideal gift. And Carlisle thought that perhaps he did. But if the worst thing that would happen to him was to be electrocuted, then Carlisle was willing to risk it, if it meant he could spare another inmate's life.

The agent pressed the remote to make sure the vampire's wrists were secured to his waist and opened the gate. Carlisle did not move, the agent had to urge him out.

“Come on, don't you want to make friends?” he mocked and took a step back. Carlisle took one step forward and paused.

This could have been a chance.

He took another step and he was now out of the gate.

This definitely felt like a chance, but Carlisle found himself stuck, unwilling to take it. He couldn't tell why.

So he followed the agent as he led the way to the prison yard.

There, next to a bench dipped in sunlight, stood the two familiar guards, their pistols in their hand, cocked and ready. Carlisle quickly realised that this was merely to see what would happen to him under the sun. He chuckled despite himself, causing the agent to look back at him.

Well, he better prepare for disappointment.

The agent stepped out of the protective shadow first, and looked at the vampire who had hesitated in his step for the first time since they left the cell.

Carlisle looked around, at all the other people. Everyone was staring at them.

He stepped out in the light and the agent immediately pulled out his pistol, taken by surprise.

But Carlisle did not move. He simply stood still, letting the agent and everyone in the yard see.

His heart ached terribly for one awful moment, because this act was punishable by death, _according to Aro._

But the agent spoke, breaking him out of the imminent fall into a pit of despair.

“This is insane,” the agent said lamely. He would have prefered it if the vampire burst into flames actually.

Carlisle did not respond.

The agent ordered the vampire to move towards the bench, slowly.

Carlisle did, feeling the stare of every person in the yard. He swallowed thickly, suddenly overly aware of the band around his throat.

The smell of blood was at the same time worse and better. It was closer to Carlisle than he would have liked but thinner and more spread out. He couldn't escape it at all, but it was soft and not overpowering.

He sat on the bench, as instructed and stared at the agent the entire time, not answering any of the questions.

No, he wouldn't burst into flames. Yes, he knew he looked bright and shining, that was the whole point. Yes, he knew it was obvious under the sun that he was not human. Yes, he avoided the sun in most cases, but long sleeves, hoodies and hats could do the job if needed.

But he didn't say any of that. He was sure the agent was smart enough to figure it out on his own. And soon enough, he was led back to the cell, not having harmed anyone, unharmed himself even.

The agent was sort of disappointed but kept his promise of taking off the band on the vampire's throat.

Carlisle thought that he had been an absolute idiot that day.

What was he thinking, accepting the metal collar and putting on himself? Why did he not protest or fight so that he would not have to step in the light? Who cared that he would be drugged again, this had been more important than his irrational fear of the unconscious world.

God, he was an idiot. A complete and utter fool.

…

The longer he thought about it, the more he concluded this had all been a misplaced hope to get closer to Aro.

If Aro was alive, somehow, somewhere, he would not have let this happen. Or, if someone in the Volturi found out Carlisle had done this, they would burn the entire world down in order to find the criminal vampire and punish him, by death.

But all this would have happened under Aro's rule.

And Aro was no more.

And the more he thought about it, Carlisle wanted to snap his own neck.

He should not rely on anyone coming to get him. Just because Aro had done it for his brothers, and Carlisle had done it, foolishly, for Aro, it didn't mean anyone would do it for Carlisle. It didn't mean anyone _should_ do it for Carlisle.

He had put himself in this situation all on his own, why would anyone help his foolish self out? They wouldn't.

Fine, then.

Carlisle would do it by himself. He didn't need anyone's help.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How are we guys doing?


	5. Stuck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will have some vampire biology bits that are non canon. you can check the end notes for a quick summary, or go to my tumblr where i have a more extensive post
> 
> [ Vampire Biology ](https://greekmuser.tumblr.com/post/628900425456893952/vampire-biology)

Yes, Carlisle had been the world's biggest idiot. The agent had drugged him again, and even though he had come back almost immediately, it was enough time for the scientist of the day to do their job and drip an acidic substance into the vampire's eyes.

It burned, it sizzled and Carlisle could do nothing except thrash against his bonds. The collar was snapped in place and with his eyesight gone, he had few clues as to who did it. A rattling chain dominated his hearing, its weight pulled against his neck, his wrists were released. Immediately the vampire pressed his hands to his eyes, stepping back disoriented until he hit a wall. Tears that he couldn't stop spilled from behind his palms as he slid down.

The venom, he thought, desperately fought the chemical.

The people were too loud, too close. They spoke but all he could hear was noise and heart beats and breaths and it was deafening.

And the _smell_ , god help him. Βlood filled with adrenaline, the hormone of fear, taunting him, tantalizing him, and he _ached_ for it.

He shrank into himself, gripping the last shreds of his control with both hands and keeping them still.

The agent ordered everyone to leave, watching closely as Carlisle pushed himself further away from the people and the yelling, before exiting as well.

  
  
  


Carlisle was on the floor, underneath a hook where the chain was attached on the wall. The collar was uncomfortably tight after he had fought against it in his panic, so he sat still, hoping to be released from it soon. He had wrapped a piece of cloth around his eyes, one that the agent had thrown at him before leaving.

He wasn't in pain anymore, but his eyes had not stopped seeping fluid. He rested his head against the wall, aiding the venom's descent over his cheeks, keeping his knees close to his body, waiting.

For that one second he was in the dream world, he saw Aro reaching one hand to him. It was clear and unmistakable and Carlisle couldn't explain it. His dreams were never pleasant, or particularly coherent, reflecting his fears more often than his desires. This almost felt like a non-dream. Like something that he didn't have a word for.

But it was definitely Aro. And he was reaching for Carlisle.

  
  
  


To the inexperienced eye, the vampire seemed relaxed, but agent A knew better. He had his jaw clenched shut, took really careful breaths, slow and shallow.

He had tightened his own collar a little too tight, mr A thought and smiled. He let the vampire wait in the room, let him simmer with unrest for a few hours.

He had tried to argue to his superiors that it was not the right time for another experiment. The vampire was too unstable, there was no predicting his reaction. He had not yet managed to make him drink blood, the best results would be taken if the vampire was at full health and strength, not when he was weakened and thirsty.

But they did not listen, so now the agent expected a change in attitude, a change in behaviour.

Goddamit, he hadn't reached a conclusion on the vampire's mentality yet and it was about to be changed. He had just managed to convince the vampire to put on the collar using only his words, and now that miniscule trust was definitely broken.

Why did they put him in charge if they never listened?

He thought it was too dangerous to let him in the yard now, but his superiors had strongly suggested that he did.

Fuckers, they cared for no one. They were willing to let the men in the entire facility die if it proved something about the vampire.

And what did they want to prove? That the vampire would eventually get too thirsty to hold back? That the vampire had _hidden_ powers waiting to be unlocked?

What a bunch of idiots.

They had ordered him to provoke _it_ so that _it_ would show _its_ true nature.

What a bunch of mother fuckers. None of _them_ was putting their life on the line.

  
  
  


The agent smiled when he entered because Carlisle turned his head to follow the footsteps. There was a calmness in his step, a confidence the vampire could practically taste.

"Hold out your hand for me," the agent said.

Carlisle reached his hand toward the towering figure. Compliance meant he would be left alone sooner, and he was short on self restraint.

Mr A placed a blood bag in his open palm.

"It's not tampered with," he said, hoping to make the vampire drink, hoping to rebuild their communication. He bent down, sitting on his heels, as if speaking with a child. Carlisle pulled away, wanting some distance between them, but having nowhere to go.

He thought the agent was strangely polite.

"Will you remove the bandage?"

Carlisle felt like baring his teeth, growling, even spitting on the agent's face, but lifted his hands to untie the piece of cloth. He blinked several times to no avail, feeling that he was blinking through sand. Mr A used the knuckles of one hand to tilt his head up. Carlisle snapped his jaw tight and tried to meet the agent's eyes.

The agent knew he was testing his luck, tempting his fate and he chuckled because the vampire's gaze was aimed at his shoulder. Guided by the sound, Carlisle found his chin.

"Do they hurt?" mr A asked.

Carlisle could hear how his heart accelerated, the agent was enjoying this.

The question would go unanswered, so the agent hummed. The blow of air caused Carlisle to blink and for a blissful moment the irritation ceased. Thick drops spilled from his eyes, beginning their slow journey towards the vampire's shirt.

Carlisle did not know this, but the drops were red.

“Why don't you just drink?”

Mr A swiped his thumps under the vampire's eyes, cleaning the blood off. Carlisle pulled back violently, batting the hands away, a low, threatening growl left his throat before he could hold it back.

The agent smiled. So this is out of limits, he thought.

“It makes me think you enjoy the pain.” Mr A stood, wiped the blood on a tissue and walked away.

"Drink," he said and closed the door behind him.

Carlisle remained tense, viciously wiping his face with his hands and drying them on his pants. He wrapped his eyes again, with painful care.

He felt around for the bag of blood. Perhaps he should just drink it. His body was cursing him for refusing it for so long. He could feel his veins burn, running almost entirely on venom. Perhaps he could try to ask for animal blood. Step back, compromise, give something to the agent and hope to be given this.

_No_.

He could be selfish for a little longer. He could keep his pride higher than people's lives for just a little bit longer.

He stood up and with slow, calculated steps he found the tabletop. The chain was at its end and he pushed the bag away.

It slid to the middle of the table and he returned to his previous position resting his head between his hands.

Hours later he was dragged back to his cell, a pistol pressed on each of his temples and a sharp blade under his jaw. He protested against it all but with no success. Shoved behind the electric bars he could do nothing but settle down.

Time passed, as time tends to do, and it left Carlisle drowning in noise.

* *

During the night his reason returned to him, bit by bit panic and trepidation gave way to composure and control.

Before the sun rose, he unwrapped his eyes, testing their ability. He blinked and squinted against the light, the images blurry and a little out of focus. He paced around, the noise had subsided, the smells too. He was getting back to normal.

 _Thirstier_.

Perhaps he should change his approach, perhaps he should scare the agent, irritate him, disturb him. Perhaps he should not repress his anger, perhaps he should show the agent how dangerous vampires could be. Perhaps, trying to play nice was not the way out of this situation.

Whatever _out_ meant.

* * *

Another right hook punch found his cheekbone, the clean shaven skin stang more in a strange way.

Carlisle blinked it away, and lightly turned his head, preparing for the next blow.

The agent had been going at it for quite some time now in an impressive display of endurance. It was an admirable effort for a human, considering the agent was wearing Caius' ring and had the assistance of an electric batton whenever he wanted to catch his breath. Carlisle gritted his teeth for that part, but it was not something he couldn't take.

In any case, the agent's test was correct, electricity worked great in keeping the vampire at check. There was nothing Carlisle could do to fight the strong current, and so endured it.

“So tell me, vamp, for conversation's sake. How are you so good at resisting the blood?” the agent asked and let his frustration show in his hits.

He had no idea that Carlisle would react so well to being close to humans. The vampire presented himself completely unaffected. He had been expecting the vampire to grow unsettled and do something, _anything._ But Carlisle simply stayed in the cell, quiet, not causing any trouble. He had even followed the agent's order of 'Do not speak to anyone'. Worse even, when the agent was expecting the vampire to be overwhelmed without his eyes, nothing had happened.

Carlisle pulled against the cuffs, feeling them tighten and strengthen the force that kept him still.

“Practice,” Carlisle answered, only because it meant the next hit would be delayed for a few seconds.

The agent smirked, “That can't be all there is to it.”

Carlisle smirked for a second too, but the next blow found him on the same spot on his cheekbone and it _hurt_.

The agent chuckled, finding that he enjoyed the vampire's company more than he had anticipated to. He had not prepared for that to happen.

“Tell me more.”

“Sometimes, when I was bent over someone's insides, or even with the blade at their beating heart, I used to let my fangs down,” Carlisle said and the agent laughed.

So it was a matter of pride and ego. The agent wasn't sure he believed that.

“You are a sick motherfucker, vamp,” he said but his smile felt a little too sincere, too sympathetic.

Carlisle groaned at the next hit.

“Aren't you supposed to be more righteous anyway?”

The vampire looked at him, questioning this conclusion.

The agent stood back, panting and sweating. “I just imagined, with you refusing to drink human blood, being a doctor, and a priest's kid.”

He found his breath and went for another hit, “But you are hungry, right?”

The vampire was barely reacting, though they could both hear the bone cracking again and again.

“How long until you starve?” the agent asked, as if this was a common conversation and picked up the batton.

Carlisle stiffened at the image, “Definitely more than a month and a half.”

He had gone without blood for almost a year as a newborn, and he was certain he could refrain for longer now. Except, in here, it was becoming increasingly difficult. All the people were a constant reminder of his thirst, all the healing was draining. His fang had been extremely hard to rebuild, his eyes, sensitive to the light again as if he was just turned, had caused him a headache, something he had only felt once before.

Chip opened the door, holding a phone in his hand, hesitant. The agent stopped mid swing, and looked at the guard.

“Sir, a little girl claiming it's an absolute emergency,” Chip said and rushed out of the room the second the agent had the device in his hand.

Carlisle followed Chip with his eyes, observing how quickly the man wanted to leave the room.

“Don't you dare make a sound,” the agent pointed a finger to Carlisle, gathering the vampire's attention back to himself.

The agent leaned back against the wall, as far from the vampire as the room allowed and took a deep breath, calming his mind, taking off the mask he was using for the vampire.

“Hey, sweety, is everything alright?” the agent asked in such a light tone Carlisle would not believe it was the same man, if he was not a witness himself.

“ _Tio, I know you said not to call you at work unless it is an emergency, but mom and dad want to send me to a different school.”_

Carlisle tilted his head, it was a young girl on the other side of the line, and she sounded genuinely upset.

“It's alright sweetheart, tell me what happened.” The agent was patient and understanding, and Carlisle could not force himself not to listen even if he wanted to.

“ _I know it was Nelly who took Marko's hat. I know it. And I told her today that she was a thief and that she will go to prison for taking Marko's hat and she said no, that I was a liar. But I am not lying, I know because I saw her yesterday throwing it to her dog and then her dad found it and threw it away because the dog had bitten it. And I said that she would pay for stealing my brother's hat and she pushed me. Tio, she pushed me first but the principle didn't believe me and he called mom and mom didn't believe me. But Tio, it is true.”_

“Okay, slow down, princess. You think Nelly took Mark's hat?”

“ _Yes, I saw her throwing it to her dog.”_

“And she pushed you first?”

“ _Yes, Tio, I'm not lyiiiiing.”_

“Why won't mom believe you?”

There was a pause and Carlisle smiled, the child was trying to come up with an excuse. It was the most unnerving thing the agent had ever seen. One fang glistening and long, and on the other side a gap.

“ _I... tore her shirt in the fight.”_

The agent lifted an eyebrow at the vampire, but his voice remained relaxed, “I see. I will talk to your mom. And tell Mark not to be sad, I will get him another hat, whichever he wants.”

Carlisle had not broken eye contact and neither lost his smile.

“ _No, Tio, it was the one papa gave him last summer.”_

The agent's face got serious, Carlisle almost felt scared for the child, but still the agent's voice did not waver.

“Oh... It's okay Lily, I promise when I come back, I'll bring both you and Mark a new hat.”

“ _Okay, Tio. Will you call mom, now?”_

“I'll talk to her tonight.”

“ _Okay, I knew you would believe me. Bye bye.”_

“Of course, sweety. Bye.”

He pressed the button to end the call, and looked at the vampire, his anger obvious. Carlisle had leaned back on his chair, the smile stuck to his lips. Relaxed, calm, as if he wasn't restrained and beaten. As if _he_ was leading the conversation.

“You are a family man,” the vampire said.

The agent approached him slowly, his expression serious, humourless.

“That's dangerous,” Carlisle said, fully aware that he had just threatened the agent's family.

The agent nodded, to Carlisle's surprise. “My sister's kids.”

“They don't know, I suppose,” Carlisle straightened his back, seeing that the agent had picked up the batton again and was studying it carefully.

“Know what?”

“That you too are a prisoner here,” Carlisle said and smiled widely, seeing the swing coming at him at full force.

He had struck dead center in his guess.

  
  


Carlisle didn't care that the agent was testing his boxing skills using his face as a target, even though he had to hear the threats of _never talk to me like that again,_ and _if you even think about my family I will hunt down every person you've ever met._

As if either of these was a new threat to him.

“You know, I thought this would hurt you more,” the agent said while trying to catch his breath after a long round of consecutive hits.

Carlisle had felt each one, but he had swallowed down every tiny spec of pain.

“Be not insulted, for I have received the same hits from the true owner of the ring, agent.”

The agent chuckled, still breathless, surprised at the choice of words.

“Be proud instead, for there have been few mortals who have made me sweat.”

The agent panted, uneasy at the vampire's light tone. What did that even fucking mean? He was unsettled, because the vampire scared him on a level he could not rationalize, and still, he had come to trust him.

And wasn't that insane?

After everything the agent was putting the vampire through, he felt familiar, calm, content when the vampire was talking to him. Divided and conflicted, terrified and trusting. What on earth should he make of it?

“What's the deal with this ring anyway? Is it the metal?” he asked.

Carlisle's left cheekbone was broken, and bruised, casting a strange shadow on his face, and still the vampire was smiling.

“A witch made it.”

“Did Kai know many witches?”

“Don't call him that, he won't like it.” Carlisle flexed and unflexed the muscles on his face, trying to urge the healing to begin.

“Oh yeah? What if I call him my bitch? Will he like it then?”

Carlisle laughed out loud.

The agent smiled too, disturbed by the rapid changes in the atmosphere, but compelled to join in the vampire's amusement.

No, he didn't like that all.

“Do you want to find out how long it takes for a vampire to starve, agent? Call him that, and you will.”

“He would turn me, you think?”

Carlisle looked at him, silent.

The agent took his time to think it over. “What is it like? To turn.”

“Painful.”

A pause, a tiny frown from the agent. “Will you make a vampire for us?”

“No.”

“What if I ask real nice?”

Carlisle chuckled, “No.”

“Everyone can be a maker?” the agent asked, in genuine interest, changing the direction of the questions before the vampire could figure out a pattern.

He wasn't sure anymore if he was asking for his superiors or to sate his own curiosity.

“Sure,” Carlisle frowned a little, calculating how much to say, too suspicious and too knowing of interrogation tactics.

The agent motioned for him to elaborate, but Carlisle ignored the indication.

“You know what I find really strange about your kind? Why do you kill the people you drink from?”

“Why not?” Carlisle answered a little too quickly, the agent's skills interpreting it as a false claim.

“Νot everyone survives the bite?”

Carlisle shook his head, secretly impressed by how spot on the agent's questions were. Taking the single word responses Carlisle gave him and connecting the puzzle pieces on his own.

He smiled to himself, thinking that the agent would have made a great hunter.

“We don't wait to see. Consider this an act of mercy on our behalf,” he said and smirked. An implication shining in his eye, a challenge that he wanted the agent to react to.

Make him think his kids were in danger. Let him drown in fear and uncertainty, because he was definitely stuck here with the vampire and the kids would not see him until after he was done. Let him suffer, then, as much as Carlisle was.

It was true though, that few vampires could control the flow of venom so well, that they didn't push too much and kill the human by accident.

But he wouldn't tell the agent that. He wouldn't tell the agent how rare it was for a vampire to make other vampires successfully. He wouldn't tell the agent that sometimes, even if the maker made no mistake, the human simply did not survive. And he would absolutely not tell the agent how strange and seemingly impossible it was that _he_ had a one hundred percent success rate so far.

“You can control venom,” the agent said.

It was not a question anymore, it was a statement and Carlisle did not dispute it.

“How many have you made?” the agent smirked.

“None,” Carlisle smirked back.

It was a common secret that Carlisle had made other vampires. But he would never admit it. And the agent could not prove it.

“Is it nice? The taste?” he asked with a smile.

He wasn't sure why he was smiling. He wasn't sure why the vampire was talking so much, either.

“Yes. Kids in particular.”

A complete lie. Kids did not taste good, the best blood was that of pregnant women, and of young men around 30.

At least everyone else claimed so.

The agent lost his smile instantly, picking up the batton and pressing it under the vampire's chin. He pushed up, forcing the vampire to lift his head and look him in the eye. Carlisle let his eyes darken only for a moment, giving the agent a tiny glimpse of _something_ else and _feeling_ the human's instinctual reaction of terror, relishing it.

The agent pressed the button and zapped the consciousness out of him.

  
  
  


Perhaps the agent had assumed, or perhaps he remained unaware, but while unconscious, the body can work to fix its problems quicker and with more efficiency.

When Carlisle awoke, a few minutes later, he was standing, the band around his middle securely keeping him against a wall. His palms had been nailed to the wall on each side of his head. He could feel them buzzing in their struggle to heal over the metal.

His chest was exposed, and the agent was leaning close to him, studying the bite mark on his collar bone. Carlisle felt his anger soar and flare. He did not want the agent anywhere near Aro's mark.

The agent was holding a knife, one usually meant for skinning deer and he was pressing it against Carlisle's neck, thinking that could keep him protected.

The agent could not see it, but the blade was over the bite mark that had turned Carlisle.

“What's this?” the agent asked and motioned to the vampire's collar bone, curious, interested.

Carlisle looked at the agent and smiled.

A smile that showed _all_ his white teeth. The agent froze, too close to be safe with two fangs in front of his face.

“You think you can hurt me with your fancy toys and your new chemicals?” Carlisle said and pushed his left hand against the strain of the thick nail, freeing it, slow enough for the cuffs not to activate. 

The agent took a step back a little too late, the knife clutched in his fist, tearing Carlisle's skin. He watched fascinated at how quickly the tear healed, without even spilling a drop of blood.

With his now free hand, Carlisle grabbed the agent's suit and twisted it to bring him closer, the tear in his palm healing but staining the fabric. 

“You think you can scare me?” he let his fangs slip down, baring them in front of the agent, threatening and dangerous. 

The agent pushed against the grip, scared, desperate. He had fucked up, he was a dead man, how could he believe he was ever safe with the vampire?

“You think you can break me?” Carlisle asked, letting his eyes darken and sink. His skin lost a lot of its colour, showing exactly how hungry he was, just how horrific he could be, just how non human. 

The agent writhed in his grip and Carlisle chuckled.

No, the man in front of him was not human. He could play the role very well, he had fooled the agent despite the scrutiny, but right now it was evident that the agent was the little mouse which had fallen straight into the snake's trap.

The doors were unlocked, Chip and Dale came in, guns in hand, one immediately pushing the button to activate the cuffs. 

Carlisle's hands flew to his waist, sticking to the band around his middle. He hadn't let go of the agent, tearing his suit in the process and causing him to stumble back, panting. His other hand, that had been still nailed to the wall, was forced down, tearing his palm open between his middle and ring finger. 

The blood stained his pants and was pooling on the floor between his feet, but he paid it no mind.

He leaned forward as much as he could towards the agent, “I have seen the devil, agent, and he does _not_ look like you.”

The guards grabbed him and pushed him forward, as agent A stood frozen. Eyes black, skin almost translucent white, long glistening fangs, yes, the agent believed the vampire was telling the truth.

* *

He was put in the box instead of the cell, and Carlisle was actually thankful for that.

He called Aro's name that night, proud he had defended the mark on his skin. But his thoughts quickly turned another direction and he called him again, this time in desperation.

After the days spent in the corridor, the box was too quiet, too dark, too suffocating.

He spent the night arguing whether he should accept the blood now and work from there. Whether it was worth it or not. Because, in all honesty, he had nothing to prove. No one to prove it to. The fact that he wanted to scare the agent by showing him a glimpse of his vampire face should be indication enough that he was at his limits. It should be an indication that he had no longer any pride to fight for. That he could no longer think rationally in the presence of humans.

He would ask the agent the following day for animal blood, any animal. He was prepared to accept mice, ferrets, cats, anything if it meant non human. And if the agent refused, well then... it would be just another sin to carry.

One of them being drinking human blood, the other killing someone in the process. The choice should be quite easy.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my theory, vampires have a mix of blood/venom running through their veins. The quality of this mix can change depending on how much blood a vampire drinks and how often they drink. So, this practically means that when a vampire hasn't drunk blood in a while, the fluid in their veins is mostly venom, which means, their veins burn, which translates to thirst. That way, even though a vampire can survive on running on just venom, it is painful and exhausting, a reaction that causes vampires to avoid such an event at all costs.


	6. Chapter 6

If the vampire wanted to play dirty, the agent would do so as well.

Last time was a disaster of great proportions, where the vampire was the one who led and controlled the entire conversation. He scared and threatened the agent, he made him laugh, he laughed himself at a stupid joke the agent made. Now that he was thinking back on it, the agent thought it all to be somewhat staged. The vampire had been trying to get something out of him, he had made a very odd guess and had been correct. How the fuck did Carlisle see through him?

This had to change, immediately.

The agent had to make sure he was in charge of the interactions from now on.

He got the green light from his superiors and brought on the table emotional threats, sooner than they had originally planned. Physical abuse alone was proving not to be very effective. At the very least against Carlisle, specifically. Maybe other vampires were more susceptible to pain, but Carlisle seemed unaffected by it. The agent pondered what the man may have gone through to develop such a strong tolerance.

Or he was just overthinking it and vampires were less sensitive to pain in general.

He ordered the guards to bring the vampire in the room, and he made sure to keep him waiting.

How could he scare a man who _wished_ for death?

He had been thinking about how to approach this for a while and he had gathered an assortment of items he deemed significant. A phone, a ring, a few letters he found in his apartment in Maine, the mugshot taken two nights ago, from that other vampire.

For fuck's sake, he could not get a break.

A man of unknown origins, with no records of his face, no identification on his person had broken into the facility completely undetected. He had found his way to the box where Carlisle was held when the guards finally noticed him. They shot him, but the son of a bitch killed them both before he fell.

Thank god he had put the vampire in the box this past week and not the corridor.

Still, he thought it was a stupid decision to kill him. If that vamp was close with Carlisle -which he must have been, otherwise why would he try to break him out in the first place- it would have given the agent some form of leverage. Perhaps he would have been more cooperative, or easier to control than the fucking asshole he was stuck with.

All he had now was the name of the vampire that caused Carlisle to be in here in the first place, Aro, and an adress in Italy that led to a fucking palace.

He had asked his connections to carefully check the place, give him a first look before he brought up this piece of information to his bosses. But there was nothing of importance there.

The palace was open to the public, it had a library, an art collection, it held dance classes, students went there to study, it had a great garden kept by people who lived in the palace in order to maintain it. A woman was in charge of all of it. She did everything by the book, simply because she did not want this beautiful palace to become another ruin someone would build over. There was nothing out of order.

His connection sneaked an advertising envelope out of a pile while the tourist guide was showing him around, and sent a picture to the agent. The address matched the one on the letters yet it made no sense for the vampire to keep communication with the palace.

No one had a fucking clue what the letters said anyway.

The best of linguists had been hired and failed to interpret them. The word spread that whoever could decipher them would be granted federal _privileges._ Informants, spies, partners, simple craftsmen had been shown part of one letter and no one, absolutely no one could make out any of it.

What the linguists could say was that it was a pictographic written form of a language, and that not a single ideograph was repeated throughout the letters. They had no context, no sound examples, nothing else to compare them to and they could only make educated guesses about them.

Most likely, they were simple, social letters, informing the two interested parties of one another's whereabouts and wellbeing, hence they were kept and not destroyed. Most likely, each symbol represented an entire sentence, idea or sentiment, which is why none of them was repeated. Most likely, it was either a made up written form of an existing language, serving as a code to pass information back and forth safely, or, since they were dealing with vampires, it was a language that has been dead for many many many years and there were no evidence of its existence because of one of two reasons: it was the language of a very small people so it died out naturally, or it was forcefully removed from the people because of some form of colonialism. In any case, the letters were unreadable to anyone but the two interested parties, which of course had been the goal.

Fucking vampires.

The agent entered the room, skipped his usual greeting, sat down. Carlisle remained calm, infinitely better at the game of patience. He didn't want to speak first, but he was determined, absolutely bent on asking for blood.

“Did you know about it?” the agent asked.

Carlisle stared at him for a very long time, unmoving. The agent almost believed he was a statue. “About what?” he asked at last, breaking the eerie atmosphere that had gathered around him in his stillness.

“He did a great job. He would have made it. He was almost there. Thank god for security cameras, right?” the agent said and smiled at the hint of confusion the vampire expressed.

“Oh well, it's over now. Let's get to our business,” he spoke before Carlisle had the chance to question anything.

He pulled a cell phone from his jacket pocket and placed it on the table. Carlisle looked at it, his blank expression had returned, but the agent could now see the tension in his eyes. The vampire was curious, worried, upset at the new information.

He unlocked the phone, revealing a very familiar home screen image.

“The results of your venom came back. They told us a lot,” the agent said unconcerned, nonchalant.

Carlisle looked from the phone to his tied wrists. “I'm sure.”

His venom told them absolutely nothing. It could not be isolated and analysed in any way, shape or form.

“A lot of people are looking for you. Or, they were. The last call was from two months ago.” He tried again to get a rise out of him. “Other than two nights ago of course.” He shook his head as if willing away a bad memory.

Carlisle frowned, _what happened two nights ago?_ He had been in the box, isolated completely from the outside environment. He could see, hear and smell nothing beyond the cement walls.

“We checked everything, we located the numbers with varied success and here we are now.”

Carlisle felt a sudden concern for his family. _Were they alright?_ But it left just as quickly.

The agent gave him a smile and tapped on the gallery icon, scrolling down to what he wanted to show.

"It's a shame that you had no pictures other than of yourself and _Aro_. ”

Carlisle tensed at the name, clenched his jaw. All intentions of stepping down and asking for blood disappeared. The agent seemed like a very fine food source.

The man tapped the screen for a video to play and Carlisle watched uneasy but mesmerized.

The image was black, Carlisle had been holding the phone face down, concealing the fact that he was recording Aro.

_"Do you think you can sing this?"_ he had asked, his voice soft, an accent the agent had not heard from the vampire. Strange and honest and intimate.

_"Mm... Let me try,"_ Aro's voice had said and Carlisle felt his stomach turn. He could not tear his eyes from the black screen. A knot tied its third loop inside his throat and he pressed his tongue tightly against his teeth.

_Darling, be by the door, let your heart in and I'll kiss every pore-_

The agent saw for the first time that Carlisle was angry, furious. Was he angry at Aro? Carlisle had called them soulmates, and the agent was unsure if that meant anything more beyond the obvious.

_Darling, just call me with your voice, let your heart sing-_ _Oh wait, I said that wrong._

_Just call me-_

The agent watched as the vampire seemed to be charging, getting closer and closer to something he could only assume would be an eruption of fury. Wasn't that the way he had reacted about that mark on his collarbone? Could it be, the mark was related to this Aro?

_But your heart is where mine lies-_

Carlisle couldn't bear it, he could not stand it for another second. "Stop it,” he said, his fists tight, his teeth snapped shut.

The agent tapped the screen and looked at the vampire with a grin, "Done."

Still, black eyes pierced him and his heart leaped in fear.

“Does a dark looking man, gruff like he just came back from war sound familiar?” he asked as he scrolled through the various images. He glanced at Carlisle before picking a picture.

Carlisle had frowned more, with more concern. He had definitely found someone to match the description.

Carlisle glanced at the images the agent was selecting.

This one was of Aro standing on the railing of a ship, one hand gripping the ropes and leaning towards the water, nearly at a 90 degree angle.

It was from the day they arrived in Maine. Aro had wanted to explore the city before they got to their new apartment.

The next one was of Aro, doing a handstand on one hand, keeping his legs bent at an angle.

The diamond pose. Aro had only just now managed to do it again after learning it in India.

The next one was of Carlisle and Aro. Except Carlisle was fast asleep and Aro had snapped the photo wearing one of his sweetest smiles.

"What do you want?" Carlisle asked, very lost as to where this was leading.

"I'm just curious about you. It's fun to look through your stuff," tha man said and tapped on another picture where Aro was stepping out of the shower, with a towel wrapped around his waist, looking confused and messy.

Carlisle felt his teeth slide down. "What are you trying to prove?"

"Nothing."

The agent tapped on another video.

The camera showed a figure, curled up on a couch for half a second before the figure turned around. Aro opened his eyes, noticed the camera and sat up quickly.

“ _Give me the phone, love,”_ he had said in the most threatening voice he could muster against a smiling Carlisle.

A playful negative hum was heard and Aro jumped up, chasing after Carlisle who had taken off laughing and screaming he was sorry.

Carlisle remained staring at the screen that prompted the user to replay the video.

The agent was smiling, "What was that?" he asked in good nature.

Aro hated being on video. That was all.

Carlisle could not stop the growl that left his chest, angry and threatening. The agent leaned back, his face calm, even if he could feel his heartbeat at his fingertips.

He pulled a photo from his pocket, unfolded it and turned it to Carlisle. It was a still from the security footage, before the other vampire was shot. “Friend of yours?”

Carlisle froze. _Garrett_?

Quickly, the agent had refolded the image and hid it from view.

“He was right outside your cell when we got him.”

“You killed him?” Carlisle asked, his voice completely devoid of emotion.

“No, we got him like we caught you and sent him to Slovakia. They have a great place there, better than here. You know, the Slovaks have a reputation. They promised to keep me updated.” He kept his eyes to the vampire's, even though his entire being screamed he was in the presence of immediate and fatal danger.

_My fault_ , came as a fleeting thought to Carlisle's mind but he didn't manage to quite grasp it. No, it couldn't be true. They couldn't have gotten Garrett.

The agent reached in his pocket, fishing out a black and copper ring. He spun it around, looked it over.

“ _This is mine!”_ Carlisle wanted to scream, but only pulled violently against the cuffs around his wrists. He growled louder, more aggressive, his teeth appearing behind his tight lips.

The agent was pointedly ignoring the vampire's threats, still speaking calmly. “The jewel maker said this is one of the two rings he made. He claimed they were a pair. Funny thing, because we did not find Aro carrying one,” he said and met the vampire's eyes.

He spun the ring around again, before sliding his ring finger through it. Stretching his hand straight, he looked at it from a distance. “Is it magical like Kai's?”

Carlisle eyed at the ring, his ring, the one he had shared with Aro, glinting under the harsh white lights and he wanted to bite off the agent's hand.

“What do you want?” Carlisle asked, barely controlling his voice, his lowered fangs making his Ts sound a little too sharp.

“They said the first thing they will do is hang him like a fish from a hook through his tongue. See if that makes him want to talk,” the agent said and hit the phone with his open palm hard enough to break it, hard enough for the ragged edges of the plastic to cut his skin.

Carlisle shut his mouth but the growl that left his chest was heard anyway. The vampire's eyes darkened more, he struggled against his restraints more desperate than before, lifted from the chair, leaned towards the _blood_ , craving it, needing it.

The agent threw the phone against the wall. Carlisle followed the movement with his eyes, lingering on the tiny red spots that now stained the wall.

He leaned further ahead, pulled at the cuffs harder, wanting to grab the agent. “What do you want from me?” he snarled and his senses were immediately overwhelmed by the smell of _scared_ blood. God, he wanted it so bad.

“You _will_ obey me.”

“You can try and make me.”

“The more you resist the harder he'll have it.” The agent flexed and relaxed his fist, pumping fresh blood out of the cuts every time.

“I don't care.” The smell was driving the vampire to the point of insanity.

“I'll have the Slovaks send me pieces of him and I'll feed them to you.” The agent leaned dangerously close to the vampire. “And then I'm gonna find your family. I'll go for the kid first. I'm gonna skin him alive and use him as kindling for my fireplace.”

Carlisle pulled at his cuffs until the magnetic force was _audible,_ finally reaching the agent's bloody hand and yanked him to him.

“If you touch him, I will let you burn for days and when you're awake and delirious, I'll take you to your kids and I will laugh as you eat their sweet, tiny hearts.” Carlisle kept the agent's hand in a vice grip, his mouth watering, his eyes glinting, hysteric. He could _feel_ the blood that traveled under the thin layer of skin, he could feel how it stained his own white palm. He almost didn't stop himself from bending down and licking at the open cuts.

“If you think about my kids again, I'll have your head framed on my wall.” The agent grabbed back at the vampire instead of pulling away, his blood making it harder to keep a tight grip.

“You can't keep me here forever, agent.” He released the hand. “Be careful now, because when I'm out, I'll feast upon everyone you care for.” He flashed his fangs at the agent, this time his intent unambiguous.

* * * *

When he was alone in the box, Carlisle understood that he had tragically overreacted to hearing the agent speak of Aro. It was very much reasonable that his home had been raided. The biggest surprise should have been how long it took for the agent to bring his possessions in.

God, had they really gotten Garrett? Had he really come to break him out and was caught instead?

He paced around, passing his hands through his hair, pulling at the roots and changing direction.

Had he come alone? Why had he come in the first place? What about Kate? Were Edward and Esme alright? The others?

The possibilities were endless and he was going to go mad with worry.

This was all Aro's fault. If he had not gone to Europe that night, if he had not abandoned Carlisle, none of this would have happened. He wouldn't be trapped here, and Garrett would be safe and well. How dare he leave? How fucking dare he?

He called Aro's name in fury, in demand and accusation.

And then, Aro came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Aro sings in the video is Every pore by Tamino. Guys if you don't know who Tamino is, I beg of you look him up. (also, in my head aro looks like tamino but a bit older)


	7. The possible meanings of forever

"Darling," Aro's voice echoed and Carlisle staggered back.

_A hallucination?_

_A vision?_

_Real?_

He quickly decided he didn't care.

"Why are you here?"

Aro took a moment to reply.

“Lilo, you have avenged me fairly. I thank you for respecting me so,” Aro said and Carlisle froze. _Avenge him?_

“Your time in this torment is enough now, don't you think? Let me help you.”

Carlisle showed his teeth. "I don't _need_ you.”

“Tell them what you can safely tell. Tell them of me if they ask.” Aro was speaking softly, not responding to Carlisle's evident anger.

“And speak foul of the dead? No.”

Aro took the hit in stride.

“Reveal what you must to escape.”

Carlisle remained silent, his aggressive stance revealing all that needed to be said.

“Principe, I need you to understand-”

“Don't you dare call me that.”

“-my death was part of a deal I had agreed upon centuries ago.”

Carlisle paused, feeling his muscles vibrate, his fists clenching on their own.

“Α deal?”

“Sucro, I had promised my self to Kleo.”

Carlisle blinked twice, his face transforming from an excellent example of rage to one of distress.

Kleo, the entity feared by gods. More inescapable than death, powerful enough for demons to run at the sound of their name.

Carlisle let another heartbeat pass, the wave of confusion bending to his anger. Everything bending to his anger.

“Why?”

“This I cannot confess,” Aro said.

“Why did you make me fall in love with you?” Carlisle spat out wanting to hurt Aro, wanting him to feel pain and guilt and shame. All this time in this prison he had thought about every possible explanation, every reason or motive and he needed to know _why_.

Aro kept his silence, he even gave Carlisle a small, sad smile, but Carlisle was the furthest from done.

“Was it because I made it difficult for you? Because you couldn't have me from the beginning?”

“No, Lilo, I lo-”

“Was I anything more than a challenge, Aro? Anything other than a fool you wanted to charm? When you told me I mattered, did you mean it?”

“Darling, I put down my crown for you,” Aro said, his voice holding an intense gravity.

“That's not love!” Carlisle finally got around to the main issue. “Aro, I would have come with you!”

Aro looked defeated, but his voice never wavered. “I didn't want to endanger you.”

“No, you didn't want _me.”_

_Not enough._

“I didn't want you to witness my end,” Aro said after a moment of silence. To his surprise Carlisle chuckled.

“That didn't work out very well.”

“I am sorry.”

“What use could I have for your apology?” Carlisle was almost ready to turn away and demand Aro left.

“My time had come. It was inevitable, unavoidable.”

The blond's mind was a mess of fog and smoke and torn down ruins. He could barely grasp concepts like fate, and inevitability. His heart felt closer to his mouth than his mind, and his heart was _hurting_.

Caius and Marcus were irrelevant. Aro would have died anyway.

The thought struck him in its clarity and he could not refute it.

“So this was your promise of forever? This was your promise of even after the sun rises from the west?”

Aro didn't respond. There was nothing he could say to make this easier.

But Carlisle was not satisfied. No, if Aro had come all the way from hell, then Carlisle would make sure he was worth the trip.

He shoved down the collar of his shirt, exposing his bite mark. “This is what I've been carrying _this_ for?”

Aro opened his mouth, but Carlisle didn't give him the chance to speak.

“Then, I don't want it,” he spoke the words and they burned like venom and he still wasn't satisfied.

He growled and he scratched at his own flesh harshly, desperately, like the bite mark was poisoning him. He clawed and tore at his skin until his fingers were dripping with his blood.

“Leave,” he said, his voice shaking as his flesh healed over the prized bite mark, leaving it broken, fragmented.

Aro watched powerless. “I'll go, but know I tried to change it. I tried to undo it. Because you meant everything.”

“I wish I never met you,” Carlisle said and he meant it from the bottom of his heart.

Aro watched his soulmate turn away from him, press his palms to his eyes, shake and he tried to say 'I'll never stop loving you' but a sob from Carlisle interrupted him.

He looked at Kleo, who was standing in the corner. The entity nodded, stern and strict and took Aro out of the realm of mortals, before he had the chance to say it.

  
  


Carlisle stood on the same spot for another moment, making sure Aro's essence could not be felt anymore. His blood was fuming, burning. He screamed and punched the wall repeatedly, feeling his knuckles crack and break and shatter and he kept going. Again and again and again and again.

This one for Aro, this one because he was a fool, this because he had allowed himself to believe he could be loved, this because he had abandoned everything, this because Aro had lied to him, this for the time wasted, this for the endless, lonely times to come, this because he was not enough, not enough, not enough, not enough.

Not enough to fight alongside Aro.

Not enough to be trusted with a secret.

Not enough to decide his own fate even if it led to his end.

Not enough for Aro to stay.

Not enough for Aro to pick him.

His fists protested the cruel treatment, tirelessly healing the shattered bones. He stopped batting the unforgiving wall and bent down to sit with his back against it.

An emotion so familiar yet so forgotten slithered up the bones of his spine. He felt it as one feels a snake crawl over their body, twist and circle around their neck, tightening its hold a little more every time. It felt like he was coming home, and he despised every second of it, yet it was the calmest he had felt in a very long time.

Self Hate, welcome back old friend.

  
  


It hadn't been an accident. Aro had known perfectly well he would not survive saving his brothers. He counted on it.

Like Carlisle had counted on not surviving that day.

The idea of death was suddenly too unappealing, too terrible. The possibility of an afterlife without Aro too unbearable.

_Just outside the walls of Volterra, underneath the soft light of a half moon, Carlisle had confessed for the first time._

“ _I can't do this. Not now. And I don't know if I will ever be able to,” he said, his eyes fixed on the wild grass beneath their feet._

“ _Then I will wait for you forever.”_

_Carlisle almost reached one hand to touch Aro but caught himself in time and pulled back, only a little scared. Aro, however, reached his arm forward, ready to accept the blond's hand if Carlisle changed his mind, found his courage and decided to hold him._

_But Carlisle turned the other way, passed his hand through his hair, unsettling it further._

“ _And say at some point I do feel I am ready. What happens when you see there is nothing underneath? What happens when you get disinterested within days?”_

_Aro stopped him before Carlisle continued his mad rant._

“ _Carlisle, when you are ready, and you have decided on your own will what you want, then I will stay with you forever.”_

Perhaps Aro had not lied. Perhaps it was Carlisle who was deceived. After all, there is no way to know how long _forever_ is.

_Years before Carlisle left for the New World, Aro had tried to tell him. But the blond was just too happy to understand._

“ _Darling, one day I'll be gone,” Aro said._

_Carlisle laughed for a moment. “Someone who loves life as much as you cannot die,” he said._

_Aro contemplated how to articulate his thoughts better, how to convey them in a way that Carlisle would see._

“ _I'll be the one to go first,” Carlisle said._

“ _No,_ _sucro_ _, I cannot go against it.”_

_The younger vampire smiled. “Death is the only reason life has any meaning.”_

_Aro paused, looked at the blond, at the soft smile, the relaxed pose, and for a moment he was overwhelmed by how much he would miss this man._

“ _Please, linger on my doorway before you leave, even if it makes for awkward moments. Please, let me walk you to your room every time even if the distance is negligible.” For our time is limited..._

_He never said that last part._

_Carlisle gave him a grin, a rare sight that was becoming increasingly more frequent, and leaned to seal it with a kiss._

“ _I promise.”_

But Carlisle had broken that promise. He had forgotten.

And Aro claimed he had made that deal long before Carlisle was even born. He had decided his fate before he knew Carlisle existed, or would exist. He shouldn't be judged for not expecting to find his soulmate. There had been centuries indeed, before Carlisle was born. He really couldn't be faulted.

Aro should not have to give up his goal, his fate, just because he happened to meet Carlisle in the meantime.

After all, Carlisle was a nobody. How could he expect _the_ Aro of Volterra to do anything for him? He had no right to expect anything of Aro.

The snake snuggled closer around his throat.

Yes, that's where he was mistaken. Carlisle had assumed that he was worth anything at all. What a terrible mistake. It had skewd his sight greatly. Now it was all much clearer.

_Carlisle was up in the middle of the night, wandering towards the kitchen of his home. His father was asleep in the other room, and the little boy reached his hands in the dark to get a piece of bread._

_That's all he wanted._

_But his father had always been a light sleeper and he heard him break the crust._

Why was he thinking of his father? He never thinks about his father.

_The priest is up within seconds, snapping up the bread out of the child's hands._

“ _What did I say about eating after midnight?”_

“ _But, I'm hungry,” the little boy protested._

_A hard slap across his cheek easily stole his voice._

“ _Ungrateful is what you are.”_

_The priest dragged his son out in the front yard and locked the door behind the child with a harsh word. 'That will teach you a thing about gratitude', he had said._

_Carlisle panicked and banged at the door, pleading his father to let him in._

“ _I'm sorry, I'll never do it again!” the boy said to the wooden, unresponsive door._

“ _Please!”he begged and he could barely see beyond his tears._

_But the door wouldn't open before the sun came up. And Carlisle was in his bed clothes, the fabric too light, his feet bare._

That must have the issue, he was ungrateful. And maybe too naive.

Just because Aro had _said_ Carlisle meant something, it wasn't necessarily true. Words meant very little.

...

No that wasn't right. Words meant everything.

It's just that they can fly and dissolve and you can deny they ever left your lips, you can regret them and take them back, but their effect cannot be undone.

Carlisle regretted speaking many words. For many reasons. Even just now.

He regretted saying that he wished he never met Aro. But it mattered little, because the words were already gone.

Carlisle understood that Aro had had to make a choice and that it was exclusive.

He just wished he had been picked.

Just this one time.

He wished.

That is really all he could ever do. He only could wish for things. And he could never quite have them. It always happened like that. Life would give him a taste of something he wanted, something he craved and then life would take it away, because it wasn't meant for him, never for him. He really should just stop, wanting. Maybe that was the solution. If he stopped wanting, life would stop opposing him.

Oh how he wished for his god to take him right in that moment.

There, he had done it again. He just wished for something. He couldn't even keep his mind under control for a few moments.

He chuckled bitterly and the snake around his neck tightened a little more.

He wanted to stop thinking, he was too tired, too hurt, too crushed. He wanted to stop thinking, to stop existing. He wanted...

_There were few things Carlisle remembered from his human life. Especially from his younger years, but he remembered the end of his last_ free _year quite vividly, even though in tiny parts. He remembered a lingering scent of incense on his clothes. He remembered a boy his age, whose name he had forgotten, and he remembered them sneaking out and smoking tobacco his friend had stolen from his father._

_He remembered leaving for church with his own father, before the sun ever came up and he remembered being polite and obedient. He also remembered his father speaking about his_ disheartened _and_ impassionate _son and how he was certain when the time would come for his son to commence the duties of a priest, that would change._

_Carlisle had known what that meant. A priest cannot be unwed, cannot not father children. A priest is supposed to be the example his people can follow._

_He remembered thinking that perhaps his father had been right, that he was in fact disheartened and impassionate, but he also remembered how fast his heart beat every time he sneaked out with his friend._

God, what was his name?

_Carlisle remembered that he had slowly, ridiculously slowly, come to realize why he felt excited to see his friend and he remembered that with that realization he had started losing his smile. It had been a slow process, months in the making, and his father never noticed, but his friend did. They sat together in the backyard of Carlisle's house passing the smoking tobacco back and forth, under the bright noon sun - Carlisle had told his father he felt unwell that day, in order to skip following him to church. His father had eyed him suspiciously, but nodded, agreeing that he looked a little pale. He even advised him to drink some tea and stay inside._

_But here Carlisle was, out in the yard, smoking with his friend as they chatted about a nonsensical future where they both ran away and boarded the ships. Off to new lands, bowing to no kings. That is when his friend-_

God, how could he have forgotten his name?

_\- had told Carlisle he never smiled anymore. And Carlisle had been surprised, because he hadn't noticed._   
  
  


He wanted Aro to be okay, to be safe. He wished for Kleo to keep his Aro safe.

_Ungrateful._

He wished, like the fool he was, that Aro would forgive him for his words.

_I'm sorry...I didn't mean it._

He didn't dare call Aro again. He didn't dare risk it. What if Aro did not respond?

_Unworthy._

Carlisle couldn't take such a rejection. So he wished...

_No stop that. Stop thinking, stop it, stop it, stop it..._

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  
  


“Good afternoon everyone, today we have a quite unsettling report, concerning the vampire, Aro and a number of suicides referencing his name. Reporter Joanne will give us the details. Joanne.”

“Thank you, Mrs Hemphrey.

“As we all remember, two months ago the vampire that goes by the name, Aro, broke into an undercover facility and released two other vampires that were kept there. Their identities and reason of confinement still remain unknown. Shortly after breaking them out, the vampire Aro was eliminated and the whereabouts of the body were never released to the public. Authorities, however, assure that it has been disposed of safely.

“A new mystery seems to revolve around the vampire Aro, since shortly after the publication of his death, a terrifying number of _suicides_ started happening. The people that ended their lives, have been confirmed to be human, and an overbearing majority of them had shown no signs of either depression or other underlying causes that would lead them end their lives. On the contrary, almost all of them seemed to be doing just fine. However, there is one thing they all had in common. A percentage of almost 95% left some form of note where the vampire Aro, was specifically named. 

“I will read you a few of the notes I managed to collect from the families of the deceased.

“Aro has helped me many times in the past. 

So now that he needs my help,

I willingly give him my life.” 

This note was written by a man in his late 70's that resided in Bronx, New York for the past 50 years.

Another note, this time written by a young mother in the 30's says: 

“I owe my child's life to Aro, so I give him mine”

A considerable number of notes simply had the words “For Aro” written on them with no further explanation.

“What is also worth mentioning, is that the families of the deceased claim that their loved one had no obvious connection to the vampire. A devastated husband claims that his wife would have no reason to know of a man such as the vampire. Others claim the reasoning in the notes was confusing at best and refuse to believe it could be true in any way.

“However, there has been one statement, of a 14 year old girl, the daughter of a deceased woman whose note simply wrote “For Aro”, where the girl defends the vampire. “Lord Aro has been gracious. He was protecting us. We had nothing to give him in return and he never asked for anything. My mother swore her life to him, not because she had to, because she wanted to. I know, if lord Aro had been so kind to us, then the same goes for everyone else. You want an answer to this mystery, I have your answer: You shouldn't have killed him.” The girl of only 14 years had been living with her mother and father in Texas, and now the broken family has moved to New Mexico, the father's home. When asked about any information on the vampire Aro, the girl refused to talk to reporters.

“Yet, the mystery is far from solved, more claims, this time coming from various online sources, reveal that this phenomenon of unexplained suicides has been taking place all over the world, with the same manner and reasoning. Authorities have neither confirmed nor denied these claims. Social media seem to support it, but there is no way to know for certain, as of yet.

“Lastly, there seems to be no connection between these suicides and the vampire Carlisle Cullen, who is held by American Defence to an undisclosed location.

“Thank you mrs Hemphrey.”

“Thank you Joanne for this complex, and quite horrific story.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Carlisle's mind was empty, silent, abandoned.

Where was the agent?

The box was too dark, the silence was maddening and he started humming a melody, only to have something to distract his senses.

Was it from a song Aro had sang to him? Or was it written by Edward?

He couldn't tell.

Edward.... was he okay? Carlisle hoped so.

He stopped humming it, seeing that his mind kept picking Aro.

The silence returned, heavy and palpable.

God, how big of an idiot was he? How could he have let himself believe things would turn out in his favour?

God, he had left his family to be with Aro. He had taken a break from work to be with Aro. He had

abandoned everything else to _be with_ Aro.

_Ungrateful._

Was it really then worth questioning, why he was now too, abandoned?

He fisted his hair and pulled at them angrily.

No, the silence was getting to him. He wasn't thinking clearly.

Or perhaps he was thinking more clearly than ever before.

He sighed, and tentatively began a familiar line of words, whispering at first, as if he had no right to them.

_In the beginning god created heaven and earth...._

Where was the agent? Please, someone let him out.

_...Blessed is the man who hath not walked in the counsel of the ungodly, nor stood in the way of sinners, nor sat in the chair of pestilence:_

He had been wrong in threatening the agent. He should apologise the next time they meet.

_...But his will is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he shall meditate day and night. …_

Well he had failed that spectacularly, hadn't he?

_...Paul, an apostle, not of men, neither by man, but by Jesus Christ, and God the Father, who raised him from the dead…_

God, Aro had been right. Carlisle had killed those four men to avenge him.

He felt so pleased that they were dead by his hand.

And his heart felt heavier.

And the snake tightened.

And the days went by, slow and agonizing. But they went by.

And he recited the Scripts time and time again, tirelessly, leaving no room for silence. He recited them more times in this box than he had done in the last decade. He spoke them with more conviction than he had felt for them in years. He spoke them even when he felt they were choking him, he spoke them when he felt that his tongue wasn't fast enough, he spoke them too softly, too harshly, in tune, in aggression, he whispered and he shouted them at the barren, cement walls.

Where was the agent?

Why was he left alone for so long?

He feared for one moment of absolute terror that he had been left alone in the metal prison box forever.

For the rest of time.

That's what forever is supposed to mean.

_...The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all. Amen..._

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	8. Aro, part I

Decisions had always been one of Aro's hardest responsibilities. For centuries, his decisions had had consequences to hundreds of people, so he had learned to consider carefully and to tame his ego.

His ego, always growing and constantly telling him he was strong, he was great, he should be worshipped, people should bow to him, they should quiver in fear at the mere suspicion of his presence. Every time a decision was to be made, he had to reason with himself and hold back his sense of self importance. To keep it tame and under control, he had found he had to submit to it in other ways or it escaped his reign and acted out in feats equal to hubris, worthy of nemesis.

Decisions were always hard.

Should he break Carlisle's trust, or should he break his own promise?

_I'll stay with you forever. I'll never hurt you._

His ego was presenting an irresistible solution.

Four days. That was all he had left in this life. Unchangeable, unstoppable and irreversible Time had decided so. Four days.

He was detached from his body, seeing everything through a hazy lens. His essence was preparing for departure, making everything so much harder. Disconnected from the physical, too lost in his mind and his ego was loud and relentless and offering a solution.

It would have been easy.

Carlisle leaned to kiss him, his hands always gentle but sure in what they wanted. Aro smiled and let himself be pushed back. He let his fangs down, grazing Carlisle's lips and moved lower, sucking softly on every inch of skin. He wrapped his lips tightly around Carlisle's throat, using his sharp fangs to keep him still and sucked.

It would have been easy. All he had to do is press just a little harder with his teeth.

Carlisle moaned softly and Aro released him, moving back up to meet his lips.

But there were so many ways to do it. His ego kept telling him to break his trust and not the promise.

He could bind a demon to his intention and have them take Carlisle's soul. Easy and simple.

He could force Carlisle's heart to stop and he could drain all his blood, keep him suspended in the in-between until his consciousness gave up.

Since trust can never be truly rebuilt and broken promises can never be quite forgiven, if Carlisle was dead before Aro, _forever_ would have been fulfilled.

And it would have been easy.

Even as they were walking down the streets downtown, a mortal with a lit cigarette would be enough for Aro to force an ignition and kill them both instantly. It would not matter that people would see. That insane fool, Lucas, had single-handedly torn down centuries of a greatly kept secret. And Aro would have loved to go down in flames. It always looked spectacular.

But then he heard Caius and Marcus had been captured, how in all the realms had that happened, he could not believe. All he knew is that it meant he couldn't die with Carlisle. No. He had to free his brothers and die there.

Cursed number four.

Still, he could end his beloved's life before his own. Still, he could keep his promise and he could grant Carlisle his so craved paradise.

Except...

He wasn't sure what would happen to Carlisle's soul. He couldn't possibly know this, and if Kleo knew, they did not reveal.

The thought of being the one to finally condemn his Lilo to an eternity of suffering, along with the other demons and monsters of hell was unbearable.

But it would have been easy.

And he was devastatingly aware of how much power he had, of how much Carlisle trusted him, of how much he wanted to end Carlisle's life to satisfy his ego.

Too detached from his body to let the experience of Carlisle wrapped tightly around him bring his reason back, his movements never stuttered when his hands found their way to Carlisle's hair and neck. He even quickened his pace, and his hand tightened around the blond's neck little by little. Tight enough to feel Carlisle's slow, soft heartbeat. Aro had no sense of reason to hesitate. Tight enough to feel his blood run along his veins, underneath his skin. He picked up his pace, chasing the perfect timing, wanting to do it right at the end.

“Ah, love, slow down,” Carlisle had whispered and Aro immediately released his hands, moving them lower, where they were needed.

So now, his decision had ended up breaking both Carlisle's trust and his promise. And he had never been more displeased with an outcome.

  
  


In Kleo's realm, the safest place possibly in the entire Everywhere, he stood, unable to relax and do what Kleo was showing him. Too tense, too upset about Carlisle's current state and fully aware the blame was solely his.

Kleo removed the energy from Aro's shaking hands. “There is nothing in that realm for you anymore, Aro. Let go.”

Aro felt his chest stir in anger.

Kleo claimed he should not have feelings so long after his death. It was not unheard of but pointless and it was holding him back.

Aro disagreed. These feelings that Kleo was so unfamiliar with, were his entire drive. Without them, without their intensity, he would have let himself go numb centuries ago.

“Can you tell me one thing?” he asked.

Kleo sighed, and Aro wasn't sure if that was an indication his behaviour and very mortal mannerisms were affecting the entity.

“Perhaps,” Kleo said.

It was one their favourite words to use Aro had come to find. Indirect answers were all he ever got, because supposedly he wasn't ready to know of things yet.

“Will he find his next soulmate?”

Kleo looked at the white smoke they had taken back from Aro. White smoke, light energy, the first step.

“There are few gods that can create new souls. One of them is your vampire's god, although they are not the only creator. What you are referring to as a _soulmate_ can be one of two things.” They lifted the smoke upwards, let it twirl and flutter freely for a moment before gathering it back.

“A creator can make two souls resemble each other on purpose.”

Aro gave them a moment more before his curiosity grew out of his control. “Or?”

“Every time a human dies, their soul returns to its creator. Before sending it back down, the god splits it inside two people. These two people are soulmates as well, only this time, they are not to resemble each other, they are to be one.” They flicked one wrist outwards and the smoke twisted around itself, tightening into a spiral.

“I have heard most creators find it entertaining to split souls and watch them scramble to find their other half.” They looked at Aro with their strange, white stare. “Souls are alive Aro, they feel pain.”

Aro couldn't keep their gaze, opting to look at the ground between them. He felt guilt. Crushing and condemning guilt.

“If the soul finds its other half, the god reunites it with itself. If not, the god splits it further and the cycle begins again.”

Aro thought about the new information. Multiple soulmates, further split souls. Easier to find _part_ of the whole, harder to be _whole_.

“However, Aro,” Kleo returned their attention to the rising smoke and pulled it downwards slowly. It seemed to bend so easily to their command. “Your vampire is not a split soul.”

Aro lifted his gaze now, met the white stare and then watched the white smoke that had gathered in a tight ball between Kleo's palms, putting the pieces together.

“I was the only one.” Impossibly heavy and unbearably thick _guilt_.

“You too are an unsplit soul.”

Kleo slowly reached their hands forward, meaning for Aro to take the smoke again, meaning the conversation was over.

Carlisle's only hope was that a creator made another soul for him? How pitiful.

Aro trembled at the thought.

“No mortal must know of this. That is what is funny to the gods.” Kleo offered, seeing Aro was still not taking the smoke back.

Aro reached one hand forward, but let it drop before touching the energy. Would he have chosen to keep working with Kleo had he known this?

No.

He would have chosen to stay on the mortal realm and die with Carlisle. It all seemed so unfair. Unfair for him, when he was on his own for two millennia and now it would be unfair for Carlisle.

“I have heard that when a human comes close to the truth the gods take them up in a hurry and exterminate the soul,” Kleo said, intending to ease Aro's concerns.

“That sounds cruel,” Aro said quietly, finally letting his fingertips touch the white smoke, allowing the energy to flow to him.

“Did you assume that creators are anything but cruel? Why then so many of us, non creators gather souls with such vigour?”

Kleo bent their fingers in the way they wanted Aro to do so and the witch copied them.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Carlisle was sitting with his back against the wall, facing the sliding door, his attention unwavering. His veins burned, his throat felt impossibly dry, and his hands, tightly clenched into fists, were shaking.

_Ungrateful._

The word was repeated in his mind in many different voices, and he had trouble identifying his own from the others.

He was thinking about Aro's words, about how he had told Carlisle to do whatever it took to get out of this place. Carlisle was keeping his fists closed, fighting to accept the idea that he would have to talk about Aro. He didn't want to. In fact, he never wanted to mention him again. He wanted to forget him, he wanted to forget himself if that was what it took.

He needed to get away, but he could not justify taking any more lives on his way out.

 ~~_Ungrateful_ ~~ _HUNGRY._

Carlisle was pulled from his thoughts by the word. That one was definitely spoken in his own voice.

_I am hungry._

His voice said again. He swallowed, feeling his throat scratch, tasting like blood, his blood, as if his throat had teared in places. He was up without his consent, almost without his awareness. A growl left his chest, quiet, testing and in a second he was across the room, his hands pressing against the door. A louder growl.

“I am thirsty!” The words left his lips without consulting his mind, in a voice he wasn't sure he recognised. Another growl, this time very loud.

Loud enough for the guards outside to hear him. “Shut up.”

Carlisle took back control of his body for a second and stepped away from the wall.

_Losing command of my body. Oh no... Overridden by instincts. Oh no..._

“I. Am. Thirsty.” His own voice said again, immediately following it with a growl.

The guards outside felt the bone chilling fear of being in the presence of a predator for the first time. They pulled out their weapons, knowing they offered little protection and shared a look.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Aro had been a witch since he was mortal. Turning into a vampire only made him stronger. He was experienced, and knowledgeable and used everything he had to his advantage. He had worked with patrons but never managed to stay with them for long. Usually they taught him a specific skill and left. He had long ago abandoned the search of why that was and instead began entering the realm of the unseen.

Fending off a few shadows with relative ease, was the first time Kleo approached him. All dark and malicious energy around him evaporating.

“Thank you,” Aro said, partly offended for the help but knowing it was always best to show respect.

“Child, it was not the shadows I protected you from, but these,” the entity lifted one hand, casting light everywhere and exposing what was hiding in the dark.

Aro stood still, shaken, terrified. Leeches, worms and larceners. Everywhere. Surrounding him. And he had been completely unaware. He had believed that such dark energies refrained from this low level of the realm.

“Thank you,” he said again, this time earnestly.

“Tell me your name, child.”

Aro stuttered. Giving out his name would be dangerous but he felt he was already in debt. “Aro.”

“Aro, young witch, call my name when you are stronger, not a day earlier,” the entity said.

“And what name should I call?”

“Kleo,” the entity said and vanished, forcing Aro back to the mortal realm.

When Aro opened his eyes, Caius was in his circle, leaning over him, worried and scared.

“Aro? Is it you, are you back?” he asked.

The witch blinked and looked around at the mess of his tent. Spilled weeds and liquids, broken jars, furiously strong candle flames, misplaced clothes and his cat, Sekhmet, tightly pressed against his lap, purring loudly. His brother's worry had been fair.

“Yes, brother it is I. Test me however you like, but please, I think first I will rest,” Aro said and fell into his brother's embrace, asleep, drained.

A full day's worth of sleep later Aro told his brothers everything. Particularly of how foolish he was to enter the realm so carelessly and how weak a witch he was in fact. He told them of this entity that had supposedly saved him, and the three vampires, together for barely 5 years then, promised to scavenge the world to find mention of that name, Kleo.

They traveled together, never parting their ways, still too weak to wander on their own.

In the middle of Persia, they found Athenadora, the wife of the Grand Major.

Caius heard her while speaking with the man, promising he and his brothers would make great guests if they were allowed to talk to the priestesses of the emperor. A good guest is one who leaves gifts to the host. One who leaves gold.

None of the three vampires had any gold, but none of them was against stealing either. The major agreed to let the three men stay, promising accomodations and comforts. But Caius heard Athenadora, and suddenly Aro's problem with that entity was no longer his concern. His soulmate, he had found his soulmate.

He did nothing to help their research, and while Aro was occupied with the priests and priestesses of the palace, forming a way of communication and while Marcus was blending in with the people to see what they had to offer in the form of experiences, their one translator and fighter, was busy trying to catch the major's wife's interest. And by the time Aro and Marcus decided they had gotten all they could from the people of central Persia, Caius had managed to convince Athenadora to run away with them.

And none of them were opposed to stealing. So as a parting gift, they gave the major gold, and Caius stole his wife.

The three vampires, and one soon-to-be-turned human, left with no further information on Kleo. All Aro had learned was about the power of gold and how to harvest it. He made them all of a golden ring that hid them from the sun.

It worked for years, until Aro accidentally angered Mithra. The god promised he would not let Aro settle anywhere the sun could reach and it took a lot of sacrifices on Aro's part to be excused from his transgressions. It was mostly plants that Aro would take care of in the name of Mithra, and promises of not hiding his skin again. The second promise was a lot harder to keep, but in the end, Mithra was satisfied and built a fair relation with the witch.

After Persia, they moved North, staying away from the coast, wanting to find people unaffected by the Roman and Parthian influences. And there, hidden among the hills and valleys of Caucasus, a small town lay. When they approached to introduce themselves, Aro stood shocked, in complete disbelief. There was a vampire there.

Beneath a scent of immortal venom, a very familiar smell surrounded him, one that he couldn't place at first. A woman, one who stepped forward in equal disbelief, smelled like hyacinth and lily and Aro felt that he knew the smell. He ached to touch the woman's hand, wondering if he would find himself in her memories when she spoke.

“Brother?” she asked in a strange language and Aro faltered. It was the language of his small people, a language already dead.

“Sister?” he asked.

Aro couldn't quite believe it. If the woman in front of him was his sister, she must be one of the youngest ones, because he did not recognise her by appearance alone. If Aro had left their home when she was less than a toddler, she too, must not recognise his face.

“I am Didyme,” the woman said and took a step towards him. Aro blinked. Didyme? The youngest one of his sisters, as far as he knew. He barely remembered his, now apparently their, mother holding a baby in her arms as she waved him farewell.

“I am Aro,” he said, hoping now that someone had talked about him to his sisters. Maybe, his younger brother? Maybe his older sister?

Didyme smiled, in semi recognition.

“Tell me brother what has come to find you, and I will tell you what has come to find me.”

He and his sister had been bitten by the same vampire, they realised, perhaps because their blood was similar and their maker had a taste for it. Didyme had been married to a Roman, which granted her a lot of Roman advantages Aro never had, one of them being the chance to learn to read and write. And contrary to her brother, Didyme had kept communication with both their mother and their other sisters, something Aro hadn't been able to do. The moment he had been sent by their father to work, he technically had had no family until he would make his own.

But Didyme was smart, smarter than Aro, and she had made sure she traveled home often, exploiting her husband's love for her.

“I convinced him to bring our grandmother to Rome,” she told Aro with a smug smile.

Aro couldn't truly react, he didn't know what would be appropriate. Their grandmother, who they both had gotten their witch blood from. Their grandmother who spoke Greek, Roman, Persian, Phoenician and _their_ tongue. He was excited and scared.

“I know how to read and write it,” she said and watched her brother's interest rise. “I can teach you.”

She said their gods could only be called if the right words were used. The right words, of course being in their tongue, that no one spoke anymore, that no one knew how to read anymore because of the damned Persians and then Greeks and then Romans.

Aro had been ecstatic to have found Didyme again. She was strong and more experienced than him. She hadn't had to guess her way to the gods, having their grandmother as a guide. He easily let her guide him to their first and true gods.

“Sister, you who have traveled such a long way from Rome, who had our grandmother's aid and guidance, tell me, I beg you, what does the name Kleo mean to you,” Aro had asked her after almost a year of traveling together.

Didyme had taken moments to think, but came up empty. “Nothing, brother.”

Aro wanted not to be disappointed, but it was getting harder by each fruitless search. He told her about the entity, about her command, discouraged, ready to give up his efforts.

“Perhaps, the demand is more literal than you assume, brother. Perhaps to grow stronger, you must acquire power in the mortal way. Maybe you must make more vampires.”

So the now 5 vampires did exactly that. They turned vampires, they found others, strong ones, excellent fighters, gifted ones. And at the same time, Aro learned to better shield himself, on the chance that Kleo was malicious after all.

Soon, a rumor spread, about a group of vampires who were raising a small army, for an unknown cause. The Volturi.

Aro liked the name, it had a certain easy sound to it even though it meant nothing in particular. It tended to stick to the mind.

The three sworn brothers decided they should have a permanent place of residence. One that could protect them from exposure to the mortals, and at the same time keep the small, but ever growing guard of vampires close to one another.

They settled on Volaterrae , thought the name was hilariously convenient and built the palace. They turned more vampires, and were joined by others, slowly but steadily, they were growing strong.

Aro then decided to go to the Norse people, hoping they had perhaps some answers. Perhaps Kleo was one of their entities. In this travel his brothers remained in Volterra, their role as leaders too time consuming and too demanding of their presence. He was accompanied only by two guards. The only two that could be trusted already.

He found no answers in the north, but he found Sulpicia. And for the first time since he was human, he felt his heart stir and clench and he fell harder than he thought was possible for someone who wasn't actually his soulmate. What was such a gentle woman with noble blood doing so far north, with these Barbarian mortals?

But perhaps he had been too strict, his sight restricted by jealousy, because she appeared to be genuinely happy and the Norse folk were nothing but respectful to the stranger from Rome who looked not Roman at all.

He touched many of the men in greeting, stealing a few precious information from their heads about this breath-taking woman just to make an impression. He found that she cared not for gold, nor power, nor fame, for she had all three here in the North. And when he finally was to meet her, he spoke in her language, hoping to charm her with his wit alone.

“I hope in all gods, that you shall excuse my forward manner, but I can refrain not from expressing this thought, and I beg you to hear me, for I only speak the truth as I see it. I hereby confess in absolute certainty, that any poet throughout history and all over this world must have had your image in their mind when they composed their finest words.”

Sulpicia laughed, secretly flattered and Aro felt his slow, faint heart-beat tremble wildly.

“If it is as you claim, I challenge you then, Southern man of high sense of self, to write me words, for if the poets could do it with a phantom, then surely you could do better, since you have the physical supposed inspiration before your eyes.

Aro smiled, bowed his head to her beauty and command. “I shall try, fair lady, but I could never hope, my humble words to do you justice.”

Sulpicia enjoyed tormenting Aro with ridiculous feats, and she enjoyed it even more when Aro succeeded against all odds. His time in the North was spent more in trying to find ways to be in Sulpicia's interests and less in learning about the Norse gods.

Sulpicia too, was falling, slowly but surely for the mad Southerner who would do anything she demanded of him.

So, one late night, after Aro had asked her to follow him back south, she was discussing the matter with her cat.

“What should I do Sekhmet?”

She didn't want to leave the people here, they were kind and loyal to her, and she led a life of peace. They had accepted her even though she drank their blood, they claimed she made them stronger by giving them drops of her own. And Sulpicia had never once killed one of them because of her thirst.

Aro had announced his arrival, back from the northest, coldest, least welcoming lake of the North, where she had sent him this time, in a pointless attempt to retrieve her brother's sword, claiming she had abandoned it after her brother's death in a terrible battle long ago. There was no battle, she had no brother, yet Aro entered her chambers, holding a sword, made entirely from black stone.

“I found nothing, noble woman, but I thought it unacceptable to return with empty hands, so I made this for you, from the stone you claim he died upon. I hope it is adequate to honour your brother,” Aro said, knowing that Sulpicia had no brother.

He had spent an entire day in the northest lake, carving it with his own hands, hoping it would impress her. Sulpicia had smiled, stroking the cat's glistening fur when the little beast stood, stretched, and made its way to Aro, slipping between his feet, and wrapping its tail around his calf. Aro looked at the animal that purred on his foot and he knew. He looked up at Sulpicia, wearing the happiest smile he had.

“I will follow you to Rome,” Sulpicia said and Aro felt he was the sole king of the world hearing those words.

He confessed to her everything about himself, his gift, everything about the Volturi, and the guards in a very foolish way, in a very dangerous way. He was sure if Caius knew what he was telling her, he would have executed him. But, gods, Caius wasn't there and in fact, Aro was very willing to give his life for Sulpicia.

So when he returned to Volterra, he brought with him a lover, and a few Norse folk who had sworn their lives to protect the Spanish goddess, the knowledge of how to drink from a human and keep them alive, and a cat.

And then, he called Kleo.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“If I open the door, will you behave?” the agent asked, very skilled in working with a raging headache. He had returned from Europe mere hours ago when the guards called him. He was exhausted but it didn't matter. They hadn't woken him. He never slept anymore.

“Don't come in!” Carlisle rushed to say before he lost control again and sure enough, his words were drowned by an aggressive growl that anyone could understand meant danger.

The agent nodded to the guards who pressed a few buttons, turned some nubs. A groan was now heard from inside the box, almost resembling pain, most likely discomfort. The agent released the lock and the heavy door slid open. He stepped inside and the door reversed its course, stopping before being fully shut, allowing some light in, but not enough space for either man to squeeze out of.

The agent remained still, taking the time he needed for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The silence was sharp. It made him feel like prey being watched, observed, calculated. He finally located the vampire, stuck to the far wall by the band around his waist.

He was indeed being watched, by an unblinking, black set of eyes. He took a step closer and the vampire did not stir, blending in with the walls. The agent lost sight of him, even though he knew exactly where to look. He took another step and Carlisle pushed himself straight and away from the approaching man, exposing his position.

“Stay away,” he said through gritted teeth, even when his arms reacted on their own and reached to grab the man.

But the agent was too far away, and the handcuffs Carlisle was wearing worked excellently.

The agent took another step forward, now too close to the vampire, gambling his life for the chance to taunt.

Carlisle was struggling against the force that kept his hands stuck to his middle, and he was struggling to restrain himself from reaching forward to bite. He turned his head violently to the side, his fangs dropped down forcing him to part his lips so as not to tear them. A rumbling sound escaped his throat.

“I'll take the blood,” he said to the wall and held himself back with every last ounce of his power.

The agent inspected him for a moment longer.

“Please,” Carlisle added counting the seconds until his thirst would overpower his will.

The agent turned on his heels, made his way to the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love to hear your thoughts <3


	9. Aro, part II

Carlisle was kept pinned to the wall, coming in and out of consciousness. When he was not in control he fought his restraints, and when he came back they were always a little tighter. Time passed, the gate slid open. The agent made his way inside and the vampire instinctively stood still, again becoming indistinguishable from the environment.

Carlisle managed to speak a rushed warning, but quickly shut his mouth and pushed himself further against the wall when the agent carelessly unscrewed the seal of the blood bag he was holding. It only lasted a moment and the room was a little too dark to tell, but the agent could swear he saw fear in the black stare.

He had been mindful to keep enough distance and with increasing interest he watched the vampire lose the battle against instinct. A pair of glistening fangs, a growl coming from the deepest parts of the vampire's chest, a buzzing sound getting louder as he fought the magnetic restraints.

It was done. Carlisle had lost.

His skin got paler, if possible, his teeth were showing and he kept swallowing down the venom that was dripping from his fangs. Thin, dark, jagged lines slowly appeared, starting from a spot on his neck and spread out in intricate patterns.

The agent forced himself to breathe regularly and took a step closer, still out of reach. He strategically held onto the plastic bag, keeping his fingers tight beneath the opening and allowing a little blood above them. He flicked his wrist with more strength than necessary, compromising his aim, and the small amount of blood that had freedom of movement slipped out of the bag and flew towards the feral vampire. Drops landed on Carlisle's face, neck and chest and the agent watched mesmerized as the vampire licked the blood clean where he could reach.

Fists spasming, lifting as far from the central band as the vampire's strength allowed, the magnetic field becoming painfully loud.

The agent watched as a drop on his neck slipped lower and lower. The vampire leaned towards him in desperation, biting the air, crying out, pulling away violently. The droplet reached the hem of his shirt, stained the white fabric. The vampire stilled.

As if being released from a spell, as if coming to a logical conclusion, Carlisle returned his eyes to the agent.

A low vibrating sound. Just a small threat.

More like a warning.

The man stepped back and as he would do with a dog, clicked his tongue twice. The vampire fell silent, seeming to understand.

If anyone asked him though, the agent would swear the being in front of him in that moment did not have a coherent thought process.

With shaking hands and tastelessly high on his _unrightful_ victory, he repeated the action, aiming better this time. Once again, the vampire licked himself clean and looked at the agent for more.

“Can you speak?” the agent asked.

Carlisle looked at him, unblinking and terrifying.

Squinting, the agent thought for a second the black eyes had changed colour. He didn't dare go closer and he didn't dare allow more light in the box.

“When you can, speak,” he gave the vampire the order.

The vampire tilted his head to the side, showed his teeth in distaste. “More.”

A knot had risen in the agent's throat that he stubbornly swallowed down. “If I release your hands, are you going to attack me?”

Carlisle didn't answer.

“You can drink by yourself, but I must watch what you are doing.” He counted his heart beats up to 12 and spoke again. “If I release your hands, are you going to attack me?”

Carlisle blinked, pulled himself together as much as he could. “I'll try.”

The agent, satisfied enough, pressed a few buttons on the remote he was carrying and accompanied by a deafening silence, Carlisle's hands were released.

He lowered them to his sides and kept them there, as they twitched and flinched and made erratic movements towards the agent. The plastic bag was stretched in front of him and Carlisle reached a _vibrating_ hand to it. He had it in his hand, he meant to bring it back to himself when the agent squeezed and jumped back with a grin.

Dark red, _precious_ blood overflooded and spilled all over Carlisle's hand, quickly dripping to the floor.

The vampire groaned distraught and before the agent could even see it, he had the bag to his mouth. Fixed on his meal, Carlisle lapped up the sweet, _sweet_ poison from the back of his hand, he swept his tongue over his palm, he licked the space between his fingers and then very quickly the seal was between his lips and then the bag was falling to the floor, empty within seconds.

The agent watched, his grin had faded and was replaced with the strange feeling that he did something bad. The vampire's eyes were back on him, a swift tongue was cleaning a set of teeth. The agent felt his stomach turn.

Carlisle slowly, _slowly_ came back to himself. Completely back, colour and reason and wits and _guilt._ He lowered his crimson gaze to the floor, looking at where the _wine_ would stain.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

_And then Aro called Kleo._

Kleo brought him into their realm.

“Aro, you remembered.” Kleo said as Aro looked around at the vast space. There seemed to be absolutely nothing there.

“I do not forget a promise. Are my powers to your liking?” he asked.

“You have grown excellently, Aro.”

“I called you now, because I believe I am capable of repaying my debt to you. If I may hear it,” Aro said.

“No debt, witch. What I want from you is to work for me.”

Aro blinked several times. “I don't know you,” he said. His presence in this realm had suddenly become extremely dangerous. Was he protected enough?

“My name is Kleo.”

“This name does not exist among the mortal knowledge.”

“Oh child, the mortals have no reason to know of one like me.”

Aro chose his words carefully, fearing he would fall into a trap. “What is it that you do?”

“I am not a god nor a goddess in the way you would know. I am both, and neither. I do not work with mortals. And I do not work for mortals,” the entity said.

Aro felt he was stepping on very unstable ground, he felt that he was actively borrowing time and that the one lending it to him was sort on patience. “What service may I have to offer then?”

“You have potential.”

Aro paused. Kleo certainly did not appear to want to share a lot.

“So much that it inspired your interest?”

“This is what I do. Think of me as a teacher, of sorts.”

“Teacher of-”

“Consider this, Aro, and when you are ready we shall speak again.”

Aro was forced out of the energy realms, having gained next to no answers.

The Volturi had grown as a coven. The three leaders had long figured that mated vampires were more loyal, so whenever a guard, still all of them equally untrustworthy, found their soulmate, the new vampire was brought into the guard as well.

 _Foolish and naive_ is how Aro would now describe their decision.

Two pairs of the newly mated, four vampires in total, were enough to shake the structure and security of the Volturi. They had decided that their situation was stable enough, that their lives were safe, that it would be acceptable to make their own family. They stealthily stole children from their homes, brought them in the palace and bit them with the intent to turn them.

Sulpicia had gone for a short walk around the torch lit roads of the town.

“Dear husband, I revel in the luxury of others bringing my food to me, but I miss the taste of willing blood too much,” she said.

“I understand. I only bid you to be safe, lover, and that you return to me unharmed,” Aro said. He did not offer to accompany her, for he was sure had she wanted his company she would have stated so.

And in any case, he had other endeavors to put his time into.

Such as mastering the art of casting spells without using his voice.

He was sitting uncomfortably on the rug in his chamber in a deep semi-conscious state, a small pot with a wild grass in front of him would serve as his target and take the potential hit. Back straight and tense, hands shaking from effort, his eyes never wavered, but absent from the physical world.

Caius was assessing the new sword he had found in a desert a month ago.

During the entirety of his travel back to Volterra, he didn't dare use it, fearing it must carry some curse to be left so carelessly. If one had lost it, then they surely would have come looking before the striking black blade had been buried entirely. It must have been abandoned, and the possible reason behind such an act scared him. So he had refrained from even touching the stunning weapon until he had brought it before Aro for inspection.

The witch had taken it in hands, found no embedded memories, not even the faintest of sentiments engraved inside it. He assumed it hadn't been used before. He checked it for any type of enchantment and found none.

So now, Caius was making up for lost time, and he was swinging left and right, feeling the weight of the sword, trying the blade against his skin. The cuts were incredible, he found, and he was quickly deciding that he would ask Aro to enhance it, so that it would be useful against vampires and shifters.

Athenadora made her way to him, slipped around his flowing movements and easily stole the weapon from his hand. She held it the way Caius had been doing, and pushed him back with a hand against his chest, a smile on her lips. She wanted him to fight her. Caius smiled back, lifting his hands in front of his face, taking a better stance to fight weaponless against someone with a sword.

Marcus had taken Didyme away from the palace for a little while. All the guards and their cruel treatment of the mortals was not something she enjoyed being a part of. Aro and Caius had no objections as long as the pair were close enough to prevent danger.

The turning took a few hours, there were no screams of pain, no tortured howls to alert anyone. But when the children awoke...

Their thirst was unquenchable, their speed unparalleled, their strength more than enough to go after the people in the town. Their “parents” could never hope to control them and the entire palace found out about their existence at the same moment; when the alarm of the town sounded three consecutive times followed by a single stroke.

_Blood thieves!_

Athenadora dropped the sword and after a shared glance, she and Caius rushed to the town centre. Marcus and Didyme were already there, but apart from the two other vampires, no one else was standing.

People lying on the ground, some already dead, others bleeding out, posts broken, shops in ruins, an eerie silence lingered, one only a town conquered by Death can carry.

The sound of a door breaking turned their attention to a house in the far east. The air did not smell of another vampire, but the pleads and screams of the remaining people along with the smell of spilling fresh blood was a strong suggestion. They rushed to the house, surrounded it and silently made the decision Caius would enter.

The great fighter had his fangs lowered, prepared for battle and froze when instead of a barbaric giant he was faced with a one meter high toddler.

Red eyes, a chin covered in blood, clothes painted scarlet. Caius grabbed it.

The three vampires looked at the little monster in horror. Who had dared do something like this to a child?

Faintly, the sound of preparations could be heard. The people in the next town were rushing to come help their neighbours.

In cases like this, the three brothers had decided that the best course of action would be for the guards to rush to the safety of the palace and each case would be dealt with separately.

The next immediate and direct order Aro had given was that he was not to be disturbed.

The door to his chamber was beaten open, he didn't notice. Someone made their way to him, he didn't notice. Someone pushed their small, sharp fangs in the flesh of his exposed forearm, he didn't notice. What finally, violently pulled him out of his trance was the irregular push and pull of venom into his bloodstream and he jumped, shoving the offender away. He blinked several times before he believed what he was seeing. A child with dark red eyes and _his_ blood dripping from the side of their lips.

A guard came running to alert him that the alarm had echoed the pattern for vampires as soon as it was heard but found the door broken and Aro standing opposite of a small, brown haired toddler.

By the time he made his way to the central room, all the guards were there, obediently awaiting his orders. He looked around, looking for Caius and Marcus, but found he was the only one there.

“Who is responsible for this?” he asked and pointed to the child the guard was holding. He wasn't sure what to do. Caius was the one with valuable ideas to such situations.

A pair of vampires stepped forward. Aro had meant to let them explain, he had meant to even allow it and excuse the mistake.

Athenadora pushed the main gate open, as the four vampires had made their way back from the town. Relief washed over Aro upon seeing his brothers, but soon faded when he realised Caius had another child in his hands, thrashing around, trying to find purchase with his teeth, soaked in blood. The scent caused the other child to struggle too and quickly the room was a cacophony of hisses and growls. Even the guards were growing unsettled by the intense scent.

“No survivors,” Marcus said as another guard took the child from Caius.

“In the town?” Aro asked stupidly.

“Yes, Aro. In the entire town. Not a single mortal left. All of it done by this child. Who is responsible for this?” Caius addressed the entire guard.

“The neighbours must be coming already,” Didyme said and Marcus held her hand.

Aro took a step back, pressed his hands to his eyes. People were dangerous, lethal even. “Sulpicia?”

The room fell silent.

“She is not with you?” Caius asked.

Aro's hands shook and he pressed them in front of his face, easing his own dread.

“Masters, it was us who did this. Please, our intention was not this at all. We only wanted to-”

Aro stopped them with one hand, suddenly composed and daring to be challenged.

“Caius, lead everyone away. Stay close for there is a chance I will need your help,” he said and took hold of the fool's arm, pulling him forward. His soulmate followed him, and Aro was not surprised.

“Tell me of your plan brother, this is not a time to rush our actions,” Caius said as he was already directing the guards to leave through a side door.

“Why it is simple Cai, I will make sure the people see the vampire die,” he said in a flat voice, speaking the tongue Didyme had taught him. He looked back at Caius, found him wearing an approving expression and pushed the two guards forwards, quickly telling them of a plan.

Supposedly they were to act violent and feral, supposedly they were to act trapped by the witch's doing, supposedly they were to fall dead by his words, and supposedly he wouldn't let the people harm them.

He heard Caius telling Athenadora and Marcus to stay in the palace with the three young ones, gave them the two other guards, while he and Didyme would lead the rest away.

As people's voices were heard from the town walls, Aro had reached the central square, he had made two circles with debris, put the two guards inside and lit the wooden ruins on fire. He covered his arms in ashes, hiding the little bite marks well, rearranged his rings and started mumbling.

“What was free is now under my command

Will and desire bend to my demand

The power in my hands is such

With which I control what I touch

Hear me now and bid the fires to me

Two souls I shall gift to the one aiding me”

The fires flared and followed Aro's light movements as the witch gently guided the flames with his fingers. The guards had lost their voices and only stood limply, as Aro fiercely refused to let them out of his sight.

“Brothers!” he shouted when he was sure the people could hear him. “Help me, for I know not for how long I can keep them still.”

The mortals had arrived and viciously, as only those who have met Death multiple times can do, jumped inside the flaming enclosures, blades made from bone in hand and quickly, the two guards were torn to shreds, defenseless and hopeless.

Aro exhaled, the fire was released from his hold. The _enemy_ had been eliminated, the people thought. He stepped back, exhausted, drained and removed all jewelry from his left hand.

The people caught him before he fell, let him down softly while others fought to put out the fires. Didyme came running to them, calling her brother in despair. She leaned over him, as the people made way, and tipped a flask of _water_ to his lips which he accepted with a mischievous wink.

There was something extraordinarily amusing in playing helpless in front of the mortals, they always cared so much.

The town was inspected, there was no trace of another vampire. Their witches studied the drained and non-drained bodies, knowing that something was not right but unable to see that the bitemarks were a little too small, unknowing that a vampire would not leave a body with so much blood in them only to go for another victim, unless the immortal had just been created. Even if they counted the bodies, the chance of knowing that some children were missing was impossibly low.

The people said they would inspect the town further, possibly go to the palace in the far north. They offered to take the witch and his sister to their town, until they made sure things were safe, as a means to say thank you. Didyme easily dissuaded them, explaining how their home was outside the walls, which is why it took her so long to reach her brother, and then that she had feared greatly, but she was certain they would be safe once they exited the walls.

No one was immune to her charm and her flowing words, at least Aro had yet to meet the one, and soon, the two beyond suspicion vampires, made their way, slowly and with pretend effort, to the opposite way of the palace.

Once out of sight, Aro stopped leaning over Didyme, and despite his exhaustion he purposely made his way to where he guessed Caius was.

“Brother, Sulpicia is fine. She was waiting for us in the clearing.” Didyme barely managed to get the words out before Aro was running.

He swore, if for some reason something had happened to her because of the cursed children he would-

But no, how could he ever doubt his wife's abilities. She was right there, in front of them, waiting in the middle of nowhere and she was holding another child in her arms. Aro ran to her, gods, if there was a single mark on her skin caused by the little demon he would-

“Dear husband, look at this.” She stopped his train of thought, and refused his touch of silver ash. “How could something like this escape your attention?”

Aro faltered. _This was his fault?_

Caius beckoned Didyme to him and led the guards further away, giving the pair a little privacy. This wasn't a good image, Caius knew. The guard is not supposed to see the leaders in such weak moments.

“Lovely wife, please tell me you are unharmed,” Aro said. _Of course this is my fault,_ he thought.

“How naive to think a child could harm me, Aro.”

“Two pairs, they said they wanted... I was-” The words wouldn't come to him and hadn't she seen what he just did?

“And what is _your_ responsibility then if not to know what is unfolding within the walls of your palace?” she accused and with a quick, merciless movement she snapped the child's neck. Aro stared at her in shock. If anyone was to blame for this, it was not the child.

Sulpicia eased her tone at her husband's distress. “Aro, your guards must turn to you when making such moves. They must ask your permission to turn others. They must listen to your orders and if you declare something forbidden, they must obey.”

Aro looked at the unmoving child. “Do you think-”

“Yes. Everyone involved in this must be punished.”

“And the children?” he asked again. He wasn't sure he had the heart to kill children. His wife looked at the toddler in silence.

Caius approached them, “She is right, Aro.”

The witch crossed his arms in front of his chest as the little beast started stirring again. Gods, this discussion should be happening in a private room inside the palace, not in the middle of nowhere with a dozen of vampires within hearing distance and all of the stars as witnesses to the vile words spoken.

“You suggest we kill them?” he asked just to make absolutely sure.

“Yes.” Caius and Sulpicia spoke together. Aro frowned.

Caius glanced at Sulpicia. He supposed that the couple knew everything about each other, and the solemn look Sulpicia gave him confirmed it.

He knew Aro would oppose the idea. He understood, only partly, that Aro was ill at ease with having to leave his family when he was turned.

“Aro, I bid you before your gods, do you believe _this_ can be taught restraint?”

Aro looked at the guards, standing a fair distance away from them, Didyme was keeping them in light conversations, they all appeared calm. The truth was that two children had managed to ravage the entire town, within a few minutes. However, he thought, such behaviour was not unheard of even for grown mortals during the first few days after they turned.

They waited under the smiling moon until the people left the town of Volterra, trusting Athenadora and Marcus would hide themselves well inside the walls of the palace.

Just before dawn, they made their way back to reassemble. The town would have to be rebuilt, new people would have to arrive before it was safe for more than a couple of vampires to live there again.

The guards were ordered to wait as a decision was made by the six vampires. The two remaining who had committed the act not yet named _crime,_ had been asked to explain themselves. Aro understood them, and now that he was calmer, not fearing for his lover's life, he could see the desire. It was pointless though, they would be executed for such a reckless action.

But then, the deed had been done, the results were already there, perhaps they could use this opportunity to learn more about their own kind, for he had not dared bite children before. No one had, as far as he knew.

He turned to his companions so they could make a decision. He voiced his thoughts, about it being a chance they should not waste, and found that Marcus was taking the bait easily. He turned to his sister then, speaking of innocent young lives, and he found that her affection and opposition to harm mortals spread to immortals too. Three against three.

Sulpicia supported it was not worth the risk. Caius too, as well as implying that the children would be tangible evidence of a failure of theirs.

He turned to Atheadora, the other one among them who had left family behind.

“The right move seems clear to me, Aro, yet, I seem incapable of agreeing to executing children,” she said.

Aro sighed, relieved. If Athenadora agreed with him, Caius would be easily convinced. Four against two easily turned five against one.

He hated standing against his wife, reaching the point of having to bite his tongue to prevent himself from declaring his opposition to the idea _he_ proposed if it meant Sulpicia would smile at him. But alas, she relented.

The children would be excused.

Caius gave a short speech about disobeying hierarchy, making reckless decisions and something about consequences. It was good, Aro thought, very inspiring, he would have been convinced if he was a guard.

The couple was executed. The guard understood.

They were to follow Caius and Marcus for as long as necessary, while Aro and Didyme would stay in Volterra with the three newborn immortals.

When Aro made his way to his chamber that night, after everyone had left, there was a slick black cat curled on top of his linen. He didn't waste time wondering how the animal had found its way inside the palace, and instead passed his hand through the thick fur.

“Sekhmet, it has been some time, friend.” he said. The cat blinked at him.

He didn't want to let go of the animal, feeling that he wasn't the same man. After the rush and the danger had subsided, he felt uneasy. Killing people wasn't new, he had done it in the past, he had done it even as a human, but this had been different. He had lied with a straight face to two of his guards, (to punish their thoughtless behaviour, to avenge harm done to his lover, his mind supplied) then he had executed the other two based on _his_ judgement. It felt too heavy and he wasn't sure he wanted all this power anymore. But at the same time, he felt elevated, significant, important. As if _he_ was suddenly worth more than the rest of the vampires. What a dangerous sentiment to get addicted to.

Didyme and Aro did all they could trying to tame the little beasts. They provided them with fresh blood every day, they kept trying to get them to communicate, they even shared their blood with them, hoping it would familiarize the little ones with them. Enough time passed and when a grown immortal would have been able to stand in the same room with a mortal, the childrens' thirst had not diminished. No progress was noted, no changes were evident other than the countless, little scars they both acquired from the small sets of teeth. Slowly, a few people had found their way back to the town, and the two vampires were relieved. New people meant the rest of their companions could return soon.

All it took was a second's worth of inattention on Aro's part for the three beasts to escape.

He and Didyme found them in the town again, the people drained again. There was no hope for them. The two vampires agreed with a heavy heart that they should end their youthful misery. The first Rule of the Volturi was established.

_The creation of immortal children is strictly forbidden._

A fire was set, small and controlled. Three lives that shouldn't be in the first place, were ended.

As they walked back to the palace through the narrow streets, slowly as if they had been out on a pleasant stroll, Didyme asked him how they could escape his watchful eye.

“Sekhmet meowed,” he said. His cat never meowed.

They returned to the palace, disheartened. He should inform Caius and Marcus of what took place. In fact they should perhaps leave Volterra too.

He went to his chamber, intending to lie on his bed until stillness felt unbearable, but when he opened his door, Sekhmet was looking at him, gently moving her tail left and right. Aro understood.

He tentatively lit a candle calling Kleo's name.

“If you are to work with me, I want you to _only_ work with me,” Kleo said.

“I have not managed to work with a deity for longer than a few years,” Aro said.

“I am aware. It is because _I_ want you to choose me.”

Aro frowned, feeling particularly bold that night. “What if I don't want to?”

“Then it is potential wasted, but the choice is yours.”

Aro thought about it, unconsciously massaging his palms. “What is it you wish me to learn?”

Kleo's expression had been blank and unaffected in all their interactions so far. Now, it held a gravity, a seriousness and Aro felt his fingers itch.

“Do you want to be like me?” Kleo asked.

Aro scrambled away. No, there was no way something like that could happen. He was a vampire, carrying human energy through this limited immortality. There was no way he could transform that into anything else.

...

Right?

His sister didn't know. He didn't know.

They had to leave, he decided. He needed Caius and Marcus.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The agent had returned from Europe where he had talked personally with the men who had caught and those who had talked with the other two vampires. There had been so many people involved, it was a joke. The entire operation had been a mess. There was no wonder _Aro_ had broken them out so easily.

And then he went around the States, visiting places the vampire had stayed in recently. There was something he was missing, he was sure.

In the man's phone, he found nothing of interest. There were no saved contacts, except Aro, and all phone calls and messages had been sent and received to unnamed phone numbers, which in turn had been disconnected since. The numbers belonged to random names that only with a little bit of digging, the agent figured were not real people. The vampire's internet history revealed music searches, medical articles, _a lot of medical articles_ , some stupid purchases, movies, law changes. For fuck's sake, this man cared for the changes in the _law._ And instead of horrific secrets kept in the notes app, he had grocery lists and appointment dates. The worst thing he could charge him with was pirating old movies, and that only happened after a fruitless, extensive search to buy or rent them.

He appeared so fucking normal, the agent felt bad for investigating.

He hadn't had permission, or time, to go to every single house the vampire owned, but he talked with the people who shared this mission with him. Almost all of them claimed they found families living there. _Normal families_. Who all stated that they had never heard of _Doctor Cullen_ before. And when asked how they found themselves living there, they gave some other names, like Hale, Masen and Platt, who technically had no relation to Carlisle Cullen, the actual land owner. In one more year, one of the houses in New fucking York would be legally passed down to the people occupying the place. What an elaborate way to give property away, the agent thought.

And yet, there was still very little information about this Aro. The man was either exceptionally good at hiding or a ghost. They hadn't _located_ Carlisle's family, but they had their names, they had found their birth names, and they had photos of them. They knew what they had done in the past century, they knew where they had studied, where they had worked with adequate accuracy.

But for Aro? Nothing.

And the goddamn palace in Volterra? Nothing of value.

There was no way vampires lived like this.

Did they manage to get _the most_ boring ones? No, if that was the case, no one would kill themselves for Aro.

Which was a whole different discussion. Why the fuck would people do that? And why did it have to be specifically for Aro? Was Carlisle not involved?

Soulmates, Carlisle had called them, but maybe the two men were far more apart than the agent had assumed. Perhaps it was something _supernatural_ and didn't necessarily mean romantically involved.

What was he saying? Was he fucking stupid? How did he explain the photos then? Or the fact that Carlisle had literally killed in some fucked up sense of vengeance.

He thought back on what the vampire had told him so far, which arguably wasn't a lot. The agent had never before been so unsure to decide if what he was hearing was true or false. And it appeared that angering the vampire only led to half truths and ambiguous confessions, not to mention threats that the agent couldn't make sure would not be kept. And starving him made him almost mute.

Fucking perfect. The only reason Carlisle would talk was because he decided to do so.

And worst of all, the agent was unsure if he could keep his head leveled anymore.

He was at home, the vampire inhabited his thoughts. He tried to sleep, there he was, in all of his horrific glory. The agent couldn't shake the image of _sick_ pale skin and shining fangs dangerously close. He couldn't escape invisible black stares and phantom growls.

And yet, the only thing he wanted to do was go back and see Carlisle again. The reason he had taken more time than needed to travel to Europe and across the States himself, was to clear his head, to make sure this upcoming obsession was real and not fabricated by some mystical vampiric power. He even went to see his dad. But no, he still felt that the only thing that could save him from the nightmares was if he saw the vampire again.

He imagined his blood being spilled and he trembled at the image of Carlisle bathed in scarlet.

The vampire's aversion to human blood was also another thing. What the fuck was up with that? And why did he feel so terrible now that he had technically forced him to drink?

Did he really mean it, when he said that not everyone survives the bite? And did he really know that his venom would not be isolated? What could that mean? That man was a doctor correct? Could it be that he had done experiments on himself? And perhaps on others?

Yes, the agent thought, very likely. Especially in the past.

So Carlisle, could perhaps know more about vampires and how they functioned than any other vampire they might eventually get.

The agent had to make him share more. He pondered on the idea of getting more familiar with him, use his growing obsession, let the vampire see it, let him start doubting the agent's loyalties. Maybe the agent could share personal stories and force the vampire to share as well out of some sense of social obligation.

He made a mental note to check to what degree the vampire could be socially influenced and prepared for a long night.

  
  
  
  



	10. Changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check the end notes for a trigger warning

Carlisle was on his knees, sitting back on his heels, numb and empty. His hand kept reaching to his chest unconsciously, looking for his cross.

He couldn't do it anymore, he thought.

_God please... Please that is enough..._

He was tired and disappointed and he didn't want to try anymore.

_Please, no one will miss me, please..._

He wasn't sure if he was trying to bargain or beg. He was only sure that god wasn't listening.

_I can't live without him, please..._

He rubbed his ring finger, feeling it terribly empty.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Aro had gotten better, energy seemed a little easier to control. He paced and paced and moved it between his fingers, moved it from hand to hand, passed it to Kleo when asked, received it back and all the while keeping an ear to the mortal realm. Carlisle was whispering, but the words weren't meant for Aro so he couldn't understand them. He listened instead to Carlisle's muffled cries and sobs, he listened to the violent convulsions of his body, he listened to the irregular breathing and he listened for hours on end as his soulmate cried his heart's worth out.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

_Do you still love me?_ He would have asked Aro.

_Nothing in this world can change how much I love you_ , Aro would say.

_What should I do?_ Carlisle would ask.

_Escape_ , Aro had already told him.

_Was I a bad friend?_ Carlisle wanted to ask Aro, for he was the only one he had ever dared bare his soul to.

_No,_ he wanted Aro to say.

Garrett!

“You didn't really send him to Slovakia, did you agent?” Carlisle asked facing the shower head, foam on his hair. He could hear the agent's blood pressure change as he was pulled from his own thoughts and called to speak. Carlisle hated how clearer everything sounded, how more intense everything smelled, how brighter everything looked.

“No,” the agent answered after a long moment.

Carlisle nodded and continued his drawn out, doomed from the start mission to cleanse his skin.

_Ungrateful. You don't deserve friends._

_Of course you do,_ Aro would have said.

But Aro wasn't here. No. It was Carlisle who had to pull himself through this alone.

He turned the water off, wrapped the towel around himself, struggled to keep his eyes off the mirror. He quickly lost the battle and met the red gaze that was staring back at him, hard and unyielding.

God forgive him, he hated the man in the mirror _so much._ He was a fool and fools are doomed to repeat their mistakes over and over. Who had said that life is a circle? They were absolutely right. Life was a circle, never-ending and _pointless_.

Everything he had done after that godforsaken day in Volterra was so that he wouldn't find himself in the same position, yet here he was again. In a similar place, with similar thoughts. Except now, he didn't have Aro to pull him to his feet, to tell him he would be alright again, to tell him he loved him.

His gaze found the ruined bite mark on his collarbone and his fists clenched around nothing. By God, he hated the man in the mirror.

“There is a story that says when an angel disobeys, they are banished to a life of pain and suffering. And yet, we wonder why children are born screaming,” Carlisle said. _Pitiful thing trapped in me... You'll never get to see heaven again._

There was silence for a while, the agent thinking around the vampire's words. “I suggest you let go of the poor sink,” he called from the entrance of the bathroom, gun in hand, pointed at the vampire.

Carlisle turned to him, looking everything like the demon he believed he was. The agent shouldn't have felt so scared by a man of Carlisle's size walking slowly towards him with only a towel around his waist, but here was, hands shaking and threatening to miss if he pulled the trigger.

Carlisle stilled in front of him. “Go ahead, agent. Make sure to aim right, make sure not to miss and maybe you can see for yourself, Death has forgotten about me,” he said.

The agent stood frozen, keenly aware that the gun wouldn't save him if the vampire truly meant to harm him. Carlisle walked past him, leaving the bathroom, leaving him to struggle to calm his heart.

“You have the keys agent, are you coming?”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

_Can you give me my cross back, agent? I make my worst decisions when I'm not wearing it,_ Carlisle had said just before the heavy door slid shut.

_Talk to me then_ , the agent had replied and leaned his forehead at the protective metal as soon as it stopped moving.

He had gone home that night, hadn't slept for longer than a few minutes as was the usual now.

It wasn't good. He was getting paranoid, he was losing touch with reality, seeing black silhouettes in the corner of his eye, feeling he was followed by a scarlet gaze everywhere he went.

They kept finding people with suicide notes for that man, Aro. The agent was ordered to find something out, anything and it was phrased in a way that meant if the agent didn't succeed, well, unforeseen consequences may occur.

The agent felt his hands shake as he gripped the door knob and he forced himself to calm down.

He entered the room, heartbeat steady and took his usual seat. The vampire was still, less than usual, the agent noticed with some relief. He appeared a little more human than the last time. He didn't lift his eyes to meet him and the agent let another minute pass like this, him staring at the less-than-usual pale face and the vampire staring at his cuffed hands.

“How are you feeling?” he asked cautiously.

“Stable.” The answer came after an extended moment.

“Good.” He leaned back to his chair, faking ease, deciding to be straightforward and blunt to have space to adjust according to the vampire's reactions, fixed on taking the conversation where he wanted to this time. “I need you to tell me about Aro.”

Carlisle nodded. “What about him?”

The agent hid his surprise at the immediate cooperation. Was the vamp up to something? “Let's start with whether or not he was a good man.” _The letters, the notes, the scars,_ he reminded himself where this conversation should lead.

Carlisle tilted his head, pretending to inspect his handcuffs. “To some people I suppose.”

The agent hummed, keeping the conversation calm. “People seem to like him.”

Carlisle idly wondered who could have spoken about Aro in a positive manner and came up with no names. The ones who would speak had nothing good to say, and the ones who had, wouldn't speak.

“Mortals?” he asked.

“I'm assuming so.” The agent crossed his legs. “He has international supporters who claim the absolute worst thing we could have done is kill Aro of Volterra,” he said, wanting to stir Carlisle's curiosity. If the vampire asked questions, they could come to an agreement regarding answers.

_You didn't kill him, he let himself be killed._ “I suppose it could get messy, but I have faith the peace will remain.”

The agent stared at a corner, behind Carlisle, taking some time to decipher this sentence. _The peace? Perhaps the other two vamps, the brothers. Volterra?_ God, he was too tired.

“What's in Volterra?” the agent asked.

“What do you think there is?”

The agent bit his tongue, reminding himself to keep the conversation peaceful. Reminding himself an angry vampire led to panic attacks and nightmares and insomnia. “I went to the palace, looked around. There was nothing of interest, nothing suspicious, all the people were human.”

A hint of a smile made its way to Carlisle's lips, the first emotional expression he showed that day, the agent noted. This could go somewhere.

“The palace is what it is, agent. What were you expecting?”

“I wasn't expecting it to be a normal place, where apparently normal people live.”

“Perhaps we are far more like people than you assumed.” Carlisle flicked up his eyebrows for a moment, before he schooled his face back to neutrality.

“What about the basements?”

“The sublevels are open to the public, agent, I'm sure you could go and check them as well.”

“I was told the underground and the third floor rooms were the personnel's living quarters. Is it true?”

“To an extent.”

_Come one vamp, speak._

“I checked a few. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

Carlisle smiled again, wondering who had remained in the palace. He knew the entire guard had evacuated a few months ago and that mortal allies had moved in in their place. But someone had to have remained to keep the operation running. Was it Heidi? It probably was Heidi.

The agent let another moment pass, making sure the vampire wouldn't respond.

“Who was he?” he asked, deliberately avoiding speaking his name.

Carlisle blinked, pressed his lips tight, squirmed in his seat to get more comfortable. “Aro was powerful,” he started and fought to find words. “No one wanted to be against him.”

“He was feared?” the agent wondered aloud. The people who ended their lives, could they have done it out of fear?

“He had no inhibitions,” Carlisle paused, considering his next words. “He was feared because he was powerful and selfish at times. Some would call him unfair.” He paused again, wanting to ask the agent what he wanted to know specifically. This unspecified conversation wouldn't give him any answers. 

“But, he never claimed to be the voice of neither justice nor fairness. He did what he did for his own reasons. Never denied anyone his help. He wasn't liked by most vampires but he was respected and people were loyal to him, because he valued loyalty.”

The agent narrowed his eyes, studying the vampire intensely. Something was different, something must have happened. Carlisle wouldn't reveal so much before. What was different? Was it the blood?

_The letters, the notes, the scars,_ he repeated in his head and after a moment's consideration he added _blood_ to the list.

“I want to show you a picture, and I need you to tell me some things about it,” he said and part of him hoped the vampire would finally look up, would finally let his red eyes meet the agents'.

Carlisle nodded.

The agent quickly retrieved a brown folder and took out a photograph, placing it on the table upside down. “It's a photo of some symbols we found on Aro's body,” he said carefully, displaying a facade of nonchalance while his hand was itching to reach for his gun at the slightest reaction.

Carlisle only nodded. “He had many, which ones do you mean?”

The agent stared at him, swallowed and forced himself to relax. “Most of them we recognise as a type of tattoo marking,” he said. “Or at least that is what we assume,” he added as an afterthought.

Carlisle nodded again.

“There were two that we know are words,” he turned the photograph around, “What do they mean?” he asked, feeling as tense as a bow string about to break. He slid the photo towards the vampire carefully, scrutinising his every move and twitch and squirm. Carlisle looked at the image, the agent noticed his jaw locking, his lashes fluttering, the absolute stillness he adopted. Whoever printed out the image had been smart enough to crop everything but the symbols out. God, he regretted showing this to Carlisle, it was cruel and insensitive.

“The bottom one is my name,” Carlisle said in a steady but empty voice. _More or less_ , he thought. God, no one else called him Lilo, he'd never hear it again...

“The top one is his sister's.” He looked away.

_I have her name over my heart, because she was my blood and cheer, I have yours over my gut, because you are my weakness and vitality,_ Aro had told him once. It had been a night without the moon's company, after a day of heavy rain.

The agent pulled the picture back, relieved to be done with it, but deeply unsatisfied and unnerved. _His name?_ _His sister's name?_ What the fuck...

But then, what _did_ he expect?

“Thank you,” he said, wanting the vampire to know he recognised this was hard for him and he appreciated it.

Carlisle looked at him, stealing his voice and unsetting his heart beat.

“The letters are pointless, they won't tell you anything. It was just a check up on things.”

The agent couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't speak until the vampire released him from the scarlet hold.

“Can you translate them to me anyway?” he asked as soon as he could.

Carlisle sighed. “Sure.”

The agent pulled out copies of the letters and pushed within Carlisle's reach. The vampire flipped through them, getting to the oldest one and let his eyes take in the information. He hadn't read them before, he knew only what Aro had told him they said. He quickly scanned the first one finding it as he thought, a simple check up.

“ _All is done. Waiting for you. Calm,_ ” Carlisle began pointing at the symbols and the sequence they were read as. “ _Priest back,_ I think that is what it says. _Arrangement,_ ” he frowned looking at the lines closer. “I don't know this one, it probably is a name, so I suppose that person _misses you. Noise. Sekhmet. Be careful._ Another name probably, _agreement._ ”

The agent watched carefully, noticing how Carlisle was skipping over symbols, coming back to them, ignoring entire lines.

“Are you sure that's what it says?”

Carlisle looked at him again. “It's a difficult language and one I'm not supposed to know. I am afraid I can only recognise specific symbols. You understand the core message though, do you not?”

“What language is it?”

“Aro's.”

The agent met his gaze now, slightly used to it, a little less frozen.

“It doesn't exist anymore.”

“What about the other one?” the agent pointed to the next letter, needing the vampire to stop looking at him.

Carlisle frowned at the page. This one he understood less, but he saw his full name and an encouragement to wait. _What? Was he supposed to have read this before?_

“ _Rain, sorrow, be careful. Short time,_ which I think means that the time to do something is nearing. _Ready, empty, sorrow_ again.” He pretended to think about the next few symbols when he was looking at the ending of the letter, where he was absolutely certain it said “Carlisle, wait for me. Remember to trust me.” What? How had he missed this?

“This one says _Come home soon,_ I'm sure of it. This one has something to do with money, so I guess Caius either sent or received money. _Happiness,_ so I assume it is a wish, of sorts.” He finished and inched the pages back to the agent.

The agent watched him carefully, having noted precisely the hopefully-accurate concepts of each symbol and meaning to pass the information to their linguists and maybe figure out what on earth was happening.

“You said Sekhmet? Like the goddess?” he asked, accepting the letters back, folding them and putting them in the brown folder, leaning back on his chair.

Carlisle chuckled. “Aro's cat.”

“Oh yeah! We found cat food at your place.” It was so unexpected the agent had forgotten to mention it before. “What happened to it? Or was it an emergency snack?” he joked but regretted it instantly.

Carlisle chuckled again, much to the agent's relief. “It left a few days before-” he hesitated but his light smile remained. “Before Aro-” he tried again, swallowed, but was unable to finish.

He didn't want to believe what Aro was saying about that cat. How she was the same cat every time, which is why he always called her Sekhmet. He didn't want to believe that the cat was anything but an animal, a pet, even though Aro swore she entered his life during important periods and left just before things settled ever since he was mortal. All the evidence was right there, but he didn't want to believe it.

The agent felt solemn, and he knew that reasonably he shouldn't share in the vampire's grief so much and yet...

“Um, what are the other scars?” he asked, hesitating on purpose.

Carlisle sighed, tilted his head to the side, thinking. “Um, most were reminders,” he began, “The ones on his calves he inflicted because he hadn't been fast enough one time and he lost many people because of it. His shoulders he scarred honouring a sun god. His arms were covered in battle scars,” he mentioned the markings as they came to memory.

“What about his palms?”

Carlisle swallowed, thought for a moment how to go around the concept of gifts. A straight lie was probably the easiest way. “Those were cosmetic and they traveled around his arms to meet on his collarbones.” The line used to cross Carlisle's bite mark on Aro, the blond remembered perfectly and felt his stomach rise to his throat.

“And the one on his chest?”

Carlisle blinked. “What?”

“The one here,” the agent pressed his fingers to his own chest, right in the middle, in the dip of his ribs. “It looked like a flower, I think.”

Carlisle blinked again. _A new one_ , he wondered. “Flowers are offerings,” he said quietly. _Of course... He had offered himself._

“Offerings? He offered himself to us, you mean?” the agent asked, incredulous. Carlisle met his eyes for a second before looking away.

_Not you,_ he wanted to say, but held his tongue.

The agent straightened up, crossed his arms over his chest. _Something wasn't right, something didn't add up._

He sighed, relaxed back against his chair. “Why blood?”

“I don't know,” Carlisle answered, eager to leave the subject of Aro.

“You must have some ideas, _doctor_.”

“You're not going to like it,” he said and squirmed in his seat again, trying to get more comfortable and failing. “I don't like it either.”

The agent smiled, curious. “Oh please do tell.”

“If you're looking for a scientific explanation, I'm afraid I don't have it,” Carlisle squirmed again.

“Well _I_ am not a man of science.”

Carlisle gave him a look, but relented. “Blood has energy. Life energy. I think that is what we cannot create on our own.”

The agent nodded, this wasn't the outrageous statement the vamp was making it out to be. Or maybe he was steadily driven to insanity and insane statements made perfect sense.

“And animal blood?”

Carlisle sighed. “These are all mere hypotheses, but _perhaps_ humans have more life energy than animals, thus, making animal blood weaker, less nutritious if you will. I can only speculate that the reason is human awareness of life and death. Keep in mind I have tried few species, but my experience tells me, animal blood is more or less the same.”

The agent pursed his lips, nodded, carefully placed both hands on the table, one on top of the other. “So human blood is better.”

“Yes,” Carlisle said, eyes fixed on his cuffs again.

The agent tapped idly his palms on the metal surface, the stolen rings he was wearing echoed loudly. “Then why do you do it?”

Carlisle chuckled, breathless and with no real humor. “I don't know.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“I think we didn't handle the children very well. I'm thinking they could prove useful,” Aro was trying to keep his tone leveled.

“Aro, we just returned and found a new religion on the rise. We must not provoke the people's curiosity. They are suspicious of their own shadows and you suggest we take their children?” Caius was always hard to persuade.

“I'm saying, I have new ideas.”

“Forget your ideas and maybe think about what your entity is asking of you. You still haven't reached them and I think at this point, you are merely avoiding it.”

Aro was furious. No, he was absolutely not scared to make contact with Kleo, what a ridiculous claim. He simply wanted to test a new idea, before calling them and Caius was being too rational.

He covered himself with a thick black cloak, needing to walk the streets of Volterra.

Sekhmet found herself walking between his legs, wrapping her tail around his calf, purring.

“No, Sekhmet, I'm only going for a walk,” he said and pulled the hood of his cloak over his face.

The cat rubbed her cheek against his shoe, looked up at him, meowed.

“I am not!” He stepped back, turned to leave. Sekhmet tangled herself between his feet again, meowing louder.

Aro growled, grabbed the animal, lifting it in the air. “I will do as I please,” he hissed, fangs lowered and threatening.

The cat gave another weak meow and Aro lost it. He sank his teeth to the thick fur, ripping the little beast apart.

Fur stuck together in lumps, blood drenched Aro's hands and he pulled back.

_Gods, what did I do?_

He let go of the small animal and it fell to the floor with a sick thump. He stepped back, _she only ever looked out for me. Gods, what did I do? I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry._

He quickly removed his cloak, meaning to wrap the animal in it and take it out to a river, beg for the gods' forgiveness.

He caught a glimpse of Marcus at his door. He froze, stared at his brother in silence. Standing with blood on his hands, blood on his face and his cat, _his cat,_ dead on the floor in front of him. There was nothing to explain.

Marcus was staring at him and Aro saw enough fear in his eyes to make his stomach twist. He bent over, emptying his body of the blasphemous meal.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning, this chapter will contain an animal death in a pretty sick way
> 
> If you want to know what happened in Volterra you can check out [this ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29142945) one shot I wrote


	11. In pursuit of Immortality

Perhaps death had indeed forgotten about Carlisle Cullen. All his life had been one accidental survival after the next.

He shouldn't have survived being born, _his father had made sure he knew._

A pitiful little thing, weak and pale. They all thought he wouldn't make it, they even baptised him right then and there.

_Wlliam, I baptize you in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit._

He could imagine it all happening, what a terrible day, the day he was born. There was no joy to be found.

The infant had survived.

Or maybe he didn't, Carlisle wasn't very sure.

When he was seven years old, he survived days upon days of high fever, accompanied with a red stained cough, a disease that took half the children his age.

At fifteen he was sent to a monastery instead of the gallows with the other boy.

At twenty three he survived being turned when the castle burned down.

And then he survived the vampire hunters, and the other vampires, and the shifters and now the people again.

Yes, it was quite clear, Death had completely forgotten about William Carlisle Cullen's existence.

Perhaps it was time Carlisle took matters in his own hands.

“I'm sorry I brought your family into this, agent. I promise you, for what my word is worth, I pose no threat to them,” he said. “ _Why did you lose so much mass?”_ the agent had asked him a while ago.

You behaved like an animal, like a violent, bloodthirsty beast.

~~_I am._ ~~

There weren't many ways he could do it. He was helpless even in this, damn the world. He couldn't get the agent's gun, but even if he somehow did, he feared, ~~hoped~~ his curiosity would outweigh his self hate.

Why did he lose so much mass? Why did anyone lose mass? He wasn't eating enough and his body was pushing for survival with what it was given.

_He was lying on his back in his room in Volterra, the curtains were half drawn, allowing the copper light in. Aro had him pinned to the thick linen, he had undone his shirt and was placing kiss after kiss across his ribs. Tracing them with light touches, pressing at the dips between them and leaving little marks as he kissed and kissed and kissed and loved..._

“ _Please, eat better. Please eat some more,” he was murmuring as he moved, driving Carlisle to the edge of insanity._

And Carlisle had spent the next two centuries trying. It was a little after he had met Esme that he had finally seen a difference. He had gained some muscle, his ribs weren't protruding like before, he wasn't as sickly thin as he had been when he was turned.

And that was all gone within two months...

So fair, he thought. Like life itself. Fair and forgiving.

“ _Is there a reason you cry blood?”_

“I'm sorry?”

The agent shifted, cleared his throat. “That day when uh... they put those chemicals in your eyes? Your tears were red. Why?”

Carlisle blinked, his face sober if slightly confused.

No, that wasn't good. Tears weren't supposed to be red, they weren't supposed to carry blood. They were supposed to be clear, non lethal venom. Red meant something was seriously wrong. Red meant he was the closest to “sick” vampires could get.

“ _So?”_

Red meant the blood he had consumed would be used way too quickly.

“If I say you managed to injure me, would you believe me?”

“That makes no sense.”

“We make no sense!” Carlisle spoke louder than intended, flinched back as the agent stood straighter unconsciously, preparing to face a predator. Carlisle carefully eased his tone.

“Your mistake is that you are trying to explain us only using science. If it could be done, I would have done it.”

“What are you suggesting, vamp?”

Carlisle drummed his fingers on the metal surface. “Maybe not everything needs an explanation, agent. We are who we are, whether we like it or not. Maybe the secret lies in the mind, in the soul, or in something entirely different. Maybe, we should stop trying to figure out how, and we should focus on why.”

The agent snapped his finger. “God bless, spoken like a true preacher,” he said and instantly regretted it.

The vampire smiled, to his shock and relief.

Carlisle was silent for a long time, his smile turning sadder with each moment.

No one escaped fate it seemed.

“Isn't it a lie? Preaching, I mean,” the agent asked and Carlisle had the strange feeling this was deeper than it appeared.

“It's not a lie if you believe it too.”

“And you believe?”

…

Did he believe?

Yes.

Believe in what? That there is something else? That god cares? That there is a plan?

“Yes.”

The agent pressed his lips together, wanting to contain his smile. “You think you'll go to heaven?”

“That is not for me to decide.” Carlisle gave the easy answer, the practiced one, the safe one.

The agent chuckled and nodded. “Well, I'm not going up.”

He sighed, pressed on his knuckles to pop them and relieve the pressure. This was not a conversation he expected to be having with the vampire, yet here they were.

“What does the devil look like?” he asked after a moment in silence.

“Appealing and accepting.”

The agent nodded, pretending to understand what the words meant.

“You know, I see a psychiatrist every six months,” he lifted one hand pointlessly only to let it drop on his leg. “Supposedly an evaluation to see how I'm holding up. I've never lied to her.” He fixed his gaze on the vampire's terribly dark red eyes. “Except for yesterday.”

Carlisle was listening, more curious than anything else.

“She asked me how this entire thing is affecting me,” he pointed at the vampire and then back to himself, “and I said it didn't. Truth is, vamp, I haven't slept well in months.”

Carlisle lowered his eyes on the surface between them.

“Perhaps you work too much. You need more interests,” he said and he wasn't sure if he sounded apologetic or regretful. He felt... responsible.

“Nah, not for a few more years.”

Carlisle frowned, pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth hesitating. “Don't assume you have time,” he said at last.

The agent snorted., rubbed his eyes with his free hand, exhaled. He appeared to deflate with the motion.

“She knew I visited my dad recently,” the agent relaxed against his chair, stretched his arms forward, making his shoulders pop, twisted his spine a little. He pulled a cigarette packet from his jacket pocket, took one out and held it between his lips. He made to put the packet back but paused.

“You smoke?” he asked.

Carlilse eyed the promise of a little peace of mind and nodded.

The agent took a second one out and passed it to the vampire. He lit up his own, released one of Carlisle's hands using the remote and held the lighter to him.

Carlisle stood incredibly still. What was the agent doing?

He looked at the small, orange flame, ~~ _fire, a chance_~~ before slowly stretching his hand to light his cigarette.

The agent took a deep breath and let the smoke out from a small opening on the side of his lips.

“She asked me how I _felt_ about seeing my dad after all this time.”

Carlisle inhaled, let the smoke stay in his lungs until he could feel them burning. He wouldn't choke, not ever, but the burn was nice.

“How should I feel about seeing that asshole?” the agent shook his head.

Carlisle wondered if the sleep deprivation had finally gotten to him.

“What was _your_ dad like?” the agent asked and inhaled the sweet smoke again, looking at a point somewhere high in the ceiling.

Carlisle let the smoke out of his lungs, trying not to blow it towards the man. “I'm sure he did the best he could.”

The agent eyed him now, a smirk on his lips, noticing how the vampire was holding the cigarette in his pointer and thumb. “Oh I know what that means.” He put the cigarette in his mouth and leaned forwards, folding his arms on the table and resting on top of them. “Mine used to make me walk barefoot in snow. Your turn.”

Carlisle frowned. _Whipping, starving, being locked outside at night, ruthless slaps,_ ~~ _a broken nose, broken ribs_~~. He was absolutely not playing that game.

“I'm sure he tried his best,” Carlisle said.

The agent chuckled, took the cigarette in his pointer and middle finger, to give his lungs a rest.

“Right. He told me to never leave an empty chair in my room when I go to sleep because it invites demons.”

Carlisle couldn't fight the smile that crept on his lips. He knew of that story.

“What are you smiling about, is it true?” the agent asked in a light mood. Way too relaxed to be safe.

“All stories hold a piece of truth,” Carlisle offered and returned his attention to the smoke.

“Then we must know some things about vampires,” the agent said carelessly. He seemed to be thinking out loud.

Carlisle was looking at the smoke that twirled in front of him as he was blowing it out.

The agent chuckled at his own thoughts, “Ain't no way that's true.”

“What are you thinking about?” Carlisle asked, deciding to humor him.

“The most famous vampire story of all.”

Carlisle chuckled with the cigarette between his lips, flaring the lit end and blowing ashes everywhere.

The agent fixed him with his gaze, a laugh from the vampire was a very rare sight.

“The Count was a mad king, it's common knowledge now,” he said, very interested in what Carlisle had to say.

“You're not looking at it from the right angle.” Carlisle flicked off the excess ash.

“Enlighten me.”

Carlisle eyed him, calculating what was safe to say and how to phrase it. Aro had given him permission, no, he had urged him to talk, hadn't he?

“The count was described as a vampire. Not a demon, not an incubus, not anything else. A vampire. That is quite telling,” Carlisle kept his voice low, feeling a little smug seeing the agent lean towards him to catch his words.

The two men spent a moment in silence, each enjoying the brief relief of smoke.

What did the vamp mean? For a myth to spread, enough logical leaps must be taken and enough unexplained things must occur. For the king to be called a vampire, the idea of vampires must have already existed in the area. The local vampires, (if there were any) must have been cruel and large in population, enough to spark the people's survival story-creation instinct.

“Are you saying there are a lot of vampires in Romania?” he asked.

Carlisle smiled behind a cloud of smoke. “Not anymore.”

The agent shifted in his chair. Romania had been plagued by vampires at one point, then. What changed, he wondered. And if that ridiculous myth had a hint of truth, was that the case for every myth?

The image of the vampire under the sunlight came to mind. Bright and shining. Almost as if he were on fire.

  
  


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When they returned to Volterra again, they did it slowly. The town needed to be rebuilt so the arrival of the new people would appear natural.

So they rebuilt it, making sure to put houses and pillars and temples in all the right spots, creating a path of cast shadows that led from the entrance of the palace to the walls of the city. A vampire could walk with their skin exposed through Volterra and not be spotted by the sun once. It truly was an accomplishment, Aro thought.

It had been Athenadora's idea.

The city was on the rise again, flourishing in some ways dying in others. There was a rumor they realised, solemnly.

It was said that the city of Volterra was haunted either by plague and the people died often, or haunted by a blood thief, _as the bells had alerted years ago._

This had to stop.

The new religion from the eastern countries, that Aro had believed too strict to rise here in Rome, was proving to be very useful.

Before, people knew what to say and who to call for protection, but now all this knowledge was named paganistic, idolatrous, worship of the _devil._ It became too easy to completely rewrite the people's ideas of their kind.

And for the time being, the christian ways to prevent harm were unsuccessful.

Aro suspected that if the religion grew, the people would find the correct words to call upon their god, the correct way to bless their food and water. But until then, they were safe.

If nothing else, Aro was intrigued by the practices of this religion. It was strange, cutting its rituals in half, giving people the ascension but refusing them the resolution.

It was also very hypocritical, he thought.

The authorities, upon the emperor's orders, chased down the believers of the old faith accusing them of distrust to _the one and true god_. Yet at the same time, inside their churches, these people consumed the flesh and blood of their messiah.

They relied on one of the strongest practices of witchcraft every single week.

Hypocrites.

Aro almost felt sick by the very idea of performing such a ritual so often. If what he was hearing about this religion was true, if the people were forced to completely abandon all of their previous practises to join this one, then he was sure they had casualties. He was sure they were overtaken by demons often. Even with the baptism in blessed waters -an excellent form of protection that he had heard was obligatory- these people weren't very safe. They were never taught how to call upon this protection.

Dangerous hypocrites.

Aro was curious to meet their priests. Perhaps this religion depended more on the skills of the priests and not on each follower, _christian,_ separately. He wanted to ask someone why the priests were only men. Surely, if they were chosen by skill, there had to be an equal number of women, if not a larger one. Perhaps, they worked differently. Perhaps it was luck that all the priests in Rome were men. Perhaps the women were appointed in different parts of the empire.

He walked, protected by the shadows, to one of the newly built churches, wanting to see the damage done to Juno's temple. Ruined stone and half broken statues. He almost asked forgiveness on the people's behalf.

He was given a candle as he entered, which he didn't light. The energy inside was intense as it was.

He felt strangely out of place and the priest in the front was speaking in broken latin.

Where is this man from, he wondered. What was he doing here in Rome? How strange people act when they speak for their gods.

The smell of incense was overwhelming, it made him dizzy.

Why was everyone so terrified of death? Why was everyone craving _eternity_? Why was _he_ just like them?

The people lined up to receive communion.

How does one appease an offended god? Would they ever be forgiven for killing their god's son? What a tragic concept _hope_ is.

He put a golden coin in the appropriate box on his way out and smiled politely as the man at the door thanked him. At least this was a nice gesture, he thought. The church claimed to try and feed all of the people in town who needed it, something the Volturi had been doing for years.

He had been fasting for a long, long time himself -one of his attempts to be forgiven by Sekhmet- and his body had reverted to the extremely thin state it had been when he was first turned. He didn't enjoy being reminded he used to hunger often. He didn't enjoy being reminded he wasn't always as powerful.

But it was clear he needed to remember, he needed to be humbled. And he endured it.

He accompanied mortals to their burials, he spoke words for them, he lit candles and burned thyme for them, he offered them gold when their families didn't have it, all in his attempts to be forgiven and all in secret of the new religion.

It took almost a year of asking for forgiveness, of constant offerings, of promises and participation in mundane mortal rituals, but then finally, finally, upon returning from a full moon prayer, he found a sleek, black kitten lying on top of his bed.

A kitten that he would raise and care for.

Aro fell to his knees in relief and gratitude. The kitten circled around him, bumped its head to his knee. Its purrs made Aro weep.

He lit the candle he had taken from the christian church, and called Kleo.

“Kleo, I believe I am ready.”

“Indeed,” Kleo said and approached the malnourished witch. “You have made amends with Sekhmet, I assure you.”

Aro didn't react. His relationship with Sekhmet was something he valued greatly and the opinion of a new to him entity had no gravity.

“What must I do?” he asked after a moment of silence.

“To become like me, first you must die.”

Aro remained quiet, letting Kleo explain.

“And when you die, if I am to catch you, you must be strong.” Kleo flared their fingers, letting Aro see that they had been holding energy.

“This power can only be acquired through souls.”

Aro blinked, straightened further.

“To acquire souls other than your own, you must have people promise you theirs.” Kleo was pausing deliberately. In any other case Aro would have felt enraged by the act.

“You will do everything in your power to keep those people _alive._ You will grant them peace and prosperity. And you will have them swear, that upon their death, their soul will be yours.”

Aro took the information in, thinking about it. _Immortality_ , what a hopeless concept. Yet here he was. Was he ready for such a responsibility?

More importantly, did it matter?

“How can someone swear their soul to me?” Aro asked.

“A blood oath is enough. Unless the mortal states otherwise at the moment of their passing, their soul will belong to you.”

“How can I trust you?” Aro asked. _How can I know you won't steal them? How can I trust you are who you claim? How can I trust you are not using me?_ He implied.

“Aro, I would not be using a vampire if it was souls that I wanted,” Kleo said. Aro faltered, _vampires_? It was the first time he ever heard of the word.

“But alas, your fear is not unreasonable,” they continued. “The souls and their energy will be passed to _you_. I cannot use that power, only keep it until your death.”

Aro thought about it. He couldn't know if that was true or not. He had to trust Kleo was telling the truth.

A fair risk in pursuit of true immortality, in _his_ hopeless attempt, he thought.

“How do I select the mortals?” he asked.

Kleo made a gesture that Aro didn't recognise was the equivalent of a shrug.

“Select those who are trustworthy and loyal. Be wary, for those people will depend on you.”

Aro looked around at the vast desert of _emptiness_ ~~immortality~~ _._

How do you ensure loyalty?

You keep your people happy and content.

That is what he and his brothers had found. Fear only lasted for a few years. Desire for power faded, in most cases. Fulfilling their basic human needs, the needs that remained after _immortality_ happened upon them, was what kept the people loyal.

Needs such as food, a home, respect and acceptance.

“May I discuss this with my brothers?” Aro asked, fearing he would be demanded he kept this a secret.

“Yes,” Kleo offered Aro a smile and sent him off, back to the mortal realm.

Aro was unnerved by the gesture. It seemed that Kleo had overestimated the number of teeth people had.

Aro called for Caius first.

This choice did not mean he distrusted the others. It meant he trusted Caius a little more.

He explained everything in a hushed voice, fast and in a language only few spoke. Caius nodded his understanding.

“I see that when a person dies, their soul is tied to you. What happens when _you_ die, but there are still people tied to you?” he asked. Aro paused. He didn't know. He called Kleo, feeling ridiculous for not having thought of that before.

“When I die, the people tied to me must die too. Soon after my death, they must end their lives, and have it written that it was for me.” Aro said slowly.

The two brothers exchanged a look, thinking about the same thing. If the guards and the two brothers were signed to Aro, in the case of his death, the entire coven would have to be eradicated. Everything the Volturi had fought for, everything they had accomplished would have to end.

Aro understood. Caius understood.

Neither Marcus, nor Caius would sign. No vital guards either. Aro would have to depend on humans and on lower guards. The two brothers agreed.

They shared the information with the others, disputing arguments together.

Aro experimentally signed some lower guards, tying them to him and by extent to the Volturi.

Mortals had just become more than a food source.

They trained themselves, they trained the guard to blend in instead of hide. They opened up the palace to the people of Volterra, they offered their help to mortals and immortals alike. Their initial mindless search for vampires had acquired a purpose. They now offered a sense of justice among the immortal world. Their numbers grew and grew and any vampire that had been wronged, could seek out the Volturi's help.

The palace became a sanctuary, valued by the people of Volterra, seeked by the immortals. There was knowledge there, there was safety there.

Every few decades, the Volturi had issues with the church. They accepted everyone in the palace. Vampires of any nation, former and sometimes current practitioners of many religions, varying cultures, men, women, people who did not conform. Sometimes couples were seen in public, couples that sparked interest, and Aro in all his ever growing power, could not always keep the Catholic Church happy.

So he compromised, knowing the palace offered too much in the community to be exiled or shut down.

They lived in compromise and waited for the decline of the catholic absolute, resisting the pressure as best as they could.

In a display of good faith and obedience to the church, Marcus was baptised.

What a day it had been.

Lucky Marcus, he even got to keep his name. He got to celebrate the day that the Saint had chased the vampires away from the city.

The end of all rumors. A happy day indeed.

Aro began to trust Kleo, he began asking questions he had not dared ask before. Questions about the world, questions about souls and vampires and gods.

Sometimes, Kleo wanted him to prove his loyalty, to prove he would listen if the time came. Aro's words were never enough, so he would prove himself by fasting for Kleo, by keeping a silence oath, by participating in specific mundane rituals, by abstaining from everything, by moving away from his position of power.

Aro did all of those things with no complaints, wholeheartedly.

Was there a price high enough for immortality?

And here he was now, living immortality with his gaze stuck to the mortal realm.

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
